


In the Next Life

by Clxarke



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Arthur Pendragon Returns (Merlin), Canon Compliant, Explicit Language, Fix-It, If Merlin (BBC) had a spin-off mini series (with a serious tone), Immortal Merlin, Love Confessions, M/M, Major Original Character(s), Minor Original Character(s), Modern Era, Post-Canon, Post-Episode: s05e13 The Diamond of the Day, Post-Season/Series 05 Finale, Suggestive Themes, This is how I would write it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:00:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 21,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27997167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clxarke/pseuds/Clxarke
Summary: "Take heart, for when Albion's need is greatest, Arthur will rise again." -Kilgharrah, s05e13.Merlin wasn't so sure he could believe that after centuries of waiting.But, even with Arthur still in the lake, something else troubled him. The earth rumbled, remnants of magic surged from the Ley Lines, and a familiar evil stirred. His dreams of Camelot began to return. With his magic dwindling, what would it take to protect the idyllic town Merlin called home?
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 37
Kudos: 82





	1. Intro (The First Surge)

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! So, a few things. 
> 
> First, this is my first properly scheduled fic. I will be posting updates every other day (EST) in December, starting on the 13th and ending on the 1st of January. Some of these updates will include one longer chapter or two smaller/paired chapters. I'm very excited to share them with you! 
> 
> Second, this is not beta read, so I apologize for any mistakes. I did let my best friend read it beforehand, if that counts for anything. (Shout out to @enigmaticallygodless for motivating me, love ya.) I am also not English, so the slang (and accent references) come from Merlin (BBC) or Broadchurch (BBC). I lived in London for four months so hopefully it isn't too inaccurate.
> 
> Third, I am not a writer for BBC (shocker) so the main characters and any reference to the legend / prior series canon do NOT belong to me. HOWEVER, this is a new time and place, so all of the other characters (major or minor) ARE original. The layout of the town is also constructed by me, so if you live there, sorry for the creative liberties (but the Hundred Monkeys Cafe is a real place! You can google for the reference pictures I used. Very cute).
> 
> Some blanket warnings: explicit language, mentions of nausea/dry heaving, panic attack, mentions of dissociation, hospital setting, migraine / physical pain (non explicit), nudity (briefly explicit), brief references to canonical torture (non explicit), one depiction of smoking, and general archive warnings for teen and up content.
> 
> And with that, I hope you enjoy!

It was a cloudy day in Glastonbury, but that was the case more often than not. Each of the buildings on the main road were glossed in the dim haze of filtered light. Towns like these, small and framed with hills and miles of green, were perfect for taking a deep breath.

Merlin was quite fond of this place.

He’d been among these Somerset hills for as long as the hills existed. He supposed, over his steaming mug of coffee, that the calm must have been numbing him. Eternity was sure to do that. His life there was far less exciting than his many travels. He adored Quebec, hated Milan, found home again in Shanghai, and found his way  _ out _ of Vegas. This little village was his nesting place and he didn’t often forget why. 

Taking a sip of his coffee, he considered buying a scone. They had blueberry scones on Saturdays.

_ Hundred Monkeys Cafe _ was a new favorite of his. He sat by the window, the seat across from him was left empty as always. Above him were string lights and a hanging series of triangle banners, sweeping across the window frame. He remembered fondly watching the children of the town put that together. Artwork lined the walls, and perhaps that was why he loved this spot. 

A car raced by, much too fast for the quiet town. Some people thought themselves the protagonists of their own lives. Merlin was far too tired to remember what that was like. 

Beca, a tall woman with an apron and white hair pinned on top of her head, topped up his coffee. Merlin smiled gratefully.

“Thank you.” 

“Storms comin, I heard.” She wiped down the second table in front of the window. “Got our local boys hammerin windows, but I dunno if it’s worth all the fussin.” 

He loved hearing her speak, mainly because the Welsh tint of her accent reminded him of when the whole town could glide over those syllables. It made him homesick. 

“I’ll have to ask Efa if she needs help with the library.”

Beca nodded in approval. 

“Good boy… You look like you deserve a scone.”

Merlin’s face lit up. She patted his head. 

The shops across the street had modern lower halves and bright festive roofs, reminiscent of times when peasants chased chickens around the dirt. He could never fall out of love with this town.

Once, three centuries ago, he thought he might have. 

In a blazing anger, he had set his house on fire and let it rise to kiss the night sky. He didn’t come back for quite some time. When he did, the town had barely changed, only advanced with the proper technology. He had fallen to his knees and cried enough to fill the lake, begging the land for forgiveness. 

It was necessary to leave every so often. After a while people would remark on how he looked unless he used a spell to alter his age bit by bit. It was easier to start fresh somewhere else, journey the planet, and then return to his ancestral home. 

He pulled his sweater sleeves further over his hands, warming them as he lifted his mug again. 

The messenger bag at his feet had many essentials: Sketch pads, journal, schedule. He took artist commissions now, a way to make a living. It was nowhere as successful as the stunning oil portraits he would paint of royalty or wealthy families in centuries before. Back then, it would have taken him weeks with a model. Practice had perfected the skill within him and his drawings were more than expert now, but he dulled them down a bit so as not to end up in local papers. 

There was a specific design on his mind. He brainstormed a tattoo design, commissioned by a 20 year old in the town. He was friends with her mother. This client, Carys, was particular about line work, seeking intricacies and designs of nature, but left him most of the flexibility. 

He reached for his sketchbook, but it fumbled out of his hand as the ground rumbled. 

The building shook. It startled a cry out of him. Picture frames on the walls fell to the ground and shattered. Merlin grabbed his coffee as it nearly toppled off of the table. 

“Bloody Jesus Hell—” came a string of curses from the kitchen. 

Merlin snatched his book off the ground, tucking it away again. Without looking, his hand jutted out and caught a falling picture from one of his favorite nine year olds. There was a faint buzzing in Merlin’s head that reached his fingers. He stared down at his hands. It was a feeling that made him gasp. 

Then, that moment, the shaking stopped. 

Outside, everyone stepped out of their shops. There were distant car alarms and a wail of sirens.

Merlin set the picture gently on the ground and stood up with his bag. There was only one thing on his mind. One place he had to check. 

“Are you alright, Beca?” He shouted to the kitchen. 

“I’m fine, dear. Just a bit of mess, that's all.” 

“I’ll come back later to help clean up,” he said, “but I need to check on a friend.”

Beca leaned around the doorframe. 

“That's quite alright, Petal, I’ll be fine. Take the scone and go to your friend.” 

Merlin smiled, taking it from her hand. On his way out the door he left a generous amount of money to cover breakfast and an excellent tip. 

The buildings on that block weren’t too bad. He rounded the corner and saw so many of the shop owners conversing on the sidewalk. 

“Bloody earthquake is my guess.”

“We haven't had one here in years.” 

“Maybe this is what they meant by the storm. That's what Mark said earlier.”

“Do I look like a weatherman to you?” 

“Deryn!” One of them shouted. Merlin looked up, raising a hand to wave. “How’s Beca?”

“Fine,” Merlin said, “just some pictures fell. She needs to mind the glass, but she’s alright.” 

“Good to see you, Lad.” 

Merlin nodded, crossing the street, calling out, “hope I can see you all this friendly with each other when the sky  _ isn’t _ falling!”

They all laughed in a conjoined rumble and Merlin went on his way. 

Something about this alleged earthquake bothered him. It wasn’t so much the existence of the rumbling, but the way he’d felt it  _ before _ . It echoed in his memories, referring back to some lost era. He wrapped his long grey scarf tighter around his neck, victim to the chill of recalling his past. 

Years ago, he learned a method of mental compartmentalizing. He could store away a certain time period, a certain place or person, in a pocket of his memory. It helped to alleviate the migraines and constant turmoil of recalling every time period in history all at once. He learned it from a warlock in Glasgow, beyond thrilled to speak with another immortal. 

He dug out a memory of what he thought could be the sound, an earthquake from the far south, but it wasn’t a match.  _ Odd _ , he thought. 

If not the rumbling, what sparked familiarity? 

He walked down to the lake. Arthur’s lake.

The lake stretched wide. Boats docked on the far right, thankfully nowhere near the sacred stretch of waters that blistered Merlin’s memories. It used to pain him to visit, but after every slight disturbance, visiting became routine. Muscle memory took him to the edge of the water, waiting a moment to see a triumphant hand or sword jut out of the lake’s glassy surface like the legends foretold. 

No such luck.

The lake was peaceful as always, no sign of anyone nearby, save for discarded candy wrappers from some twelve year old visitors the night before. 

Disappointment didn’t have its clutches on Merlin anymore. After centuries of an un-rippled lake, he didn’t expect anything out of the ordinary. 

He turned on his heel and walked further down the road, toward his home. 

The wind picked up, chilling his bones. He firmly chastised himself for not wearing a jacket over his dark blue jumper. The scarf kept him from the brunt of its bite, but it still sung through the threads of his clothes. 

His house was a renovated farmer’s cottage. 

It was bordered by gardens left long overgrown and an extensive piece of land. If anyone asked, it was inherited into “Deryn Parry’s” family. The Parry family was an old one, with only one local resident on their family’s land. 

This was, of course, the lie Merlin fabricated. As soon as he would grow too old in appearance, he would leave and live elsewhere before another version of himself inherited the land. The Parry’s land was no good for farming, tainted by a shortage of nutrients in the soil. This was Merlin’s doing, not wanting any farmer to be interested in buying the land. Deryn Parry was an intricate idea, but arguably well executed. 

Pushing his key into the lock, his front door took a small push to open. 

Books piled everywhere. There were plants, hanging and potted, all splayed around the living room. On the walls were maps of everywhere he could think of, and a shelf of trinkets stood tall in the corner. None of the trinkets had fallen in the rumble, held steadfast to the shelves with magic. With a television and a window into the kitchen, It was, give or take, as modern as a time capsule could be. 

He left his boots in the front hallway and mindlessly made his way upstairs, and then to a locked door. 

Holding up a hand, he spoke a low enchantment and the door swung ajar. 

The room within was impossibly big, far too big to fit within the confines of his tiny cottage. An old friend once said it reminded him of the TARDIS. The room stretched on far in front of him, lined with walls of relics and carefully organized scrapbooks of data. It was a storage closet, but modern, meticulous. Like Merlin’s brain, this room was compartmentalized into sections, pieces of history made easy to find and rummage through. 

He approached a particular shelf and withdrew a dusty binder detailing some major natural disasters. Flipping through his notes, his brows furrowed. This wasn’t correct. He drew out another. Then another. 

Around him, now seated on the floor, stacked piles of books and frustrations. His annoyance grew like the cloud of dust that hazed around him. 

“What  _ is _ it?” 

He groaned into his hands and fell backwards, lying on the ground and staring up at the ceiling. It was entirely possible at this point that it was just another earthquake. He couldn’t recall the last one this town had felt, especially at that capacity, but it wasn’t impossible. 

For his entire duration on earth, he watched as humans polluted and destroyed. There was little he could do, as they drained the earth dry of its resources. 

At one point, he’d lived in the most magical place on earth. The Ley Lines were strong once. It was then that Merlin had learned how to properly utilize his powers.

Queen Guinevere legalized magic some years after her husband’s passing, bringing in highly trained sorcerers to train and guide anyone in the kingdom possessing magic. It was brilliant, a true stroke of genius. Not only was magic no longer cause for Merlin to fear his safety, but no sorcerer in the land would make false, unguided moves or endanger others. He had kissed Gwen’s cheek four rapid times when she told him of her decree. 

Now, Albion was stripped of its name, its Welsh origins. It was once prosperous and nourishing to all that felt energy in the land. Now, it was barren, save for the few instances of revitalization under proper moonlight. This place, a fruit once flourishing, was a dying husk. 

He missed it. God, did he miss it. But in truth he could barely remember it. 

It was more the feeling he missed. He hadn’t realized how deeply the land thrummed with magic until it was gone. He missed the peculiar sweetness in the air, the way the ground always felt more solid under his feet. It was so humorous to him now how King Uther had tried to ban magic. In Camelot, magic was in every breath. The Ley Lines overflowed with it. Even all the power of a king couldn’t disperse it.

It was condensed then, but now under the name Glastonbury, it was like a wisp of smoke he hadn’t felt in years. 

Merlin sat up, his eyes wide. 

The  _ rumbling _ wasn’t familiar. He was daft for wasting time on that. The ground shaking was just a byproduct of what Merlin hadn’t felt in a long, long time. He’d felt the  _ magic _ , ancient and awake, surge through his hands.

But he’d checked the lake. The surge wasn’t Arthur’s return. It didn’t make sense. 

Just then, his cellphone rang, making him jump.

“Hi, Efa,” He said upon answering, “I’m sorry I— Yes, I should have been over there, but after the earthquake, my friend was stuck in his house so I went to help.” Merlin started tucking away his research. “No, no, he’s fine… Of course. Yes. Okay, I’ll be there as quick as I can. Right, see you soon. Tara.” 

He locked the door behind him with a muffled spell and ran to grab a jacket, learning from his mistakes in hopefully more ways than one. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! 
> 
> You can find me @runestele on Tumblr :)


	2. Idle Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A quiet night in could never JUST be a quiet night in... Not with the storm brewing outside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I'm the author, but damn... When will Merlin get a good night? 
> 
> Warnings: Reference to Arthur's canonical death in the final episode of the series. 
> 
> Enjoy! :)

That night, the rain came down in heavy sheets. England was familiar with rain, of course, but the torrential downpour was enough to make Merlin consider the strength of his roof. 

He was glad he’d helped the library board up its windows. A building that old was fragile, in spite of its endurance to time. The windows in particular, some a calm blue tint and others like the colored glass in a church. Merlin couldn’t remember if the library building _had_ once been a chapel. It wouldn’t have been surprising were that the case. 

He sat in his most comfortable armchair, jotting down the details of the day’s events and the odd surge of magic he felt. It was so peculiar he had no idea what to make of it. Reaching out now, the Ley Lines were just as weak as he recalled. Their surge of power was brief, but impactful. 

As he took a sip of his tea, he heard the thunder crack extra loudly and his lights went out. 

A glow from his hand, a silent spell, filled the room with warm light as he set his tea back down. 

“Blasted storm,” he muttered. 

He stood, tired enough for bed anyways. After checking the locks and tucking his journal back into his bag, he trudged around the corner to his room. 

Sleep did not bring him peace. 

_Once his eyes closed in reality, they opened to see Camelot._

_Far ahead of him, the knights were lined up, gathering supplies and preparing horses. The birds swooped in a V overhead and he looked around with a deep sense of joy._

_“Merlin,” Sir Gwaine called out, “are you coming? Or did Arthur learn how to buckle his own armor?”_

_It was so incredible to see him. He wanted to use the moment to say how much he missed him, how he wished they could have said goodbye, but Merlin’s voice in this dream had a mind of his own._

_“You know that answer! Once a royal clotpole, always a royal clotpole.”_

_Gwaine and Percival laughed as they traded bags, checking to make sure Elyan had water._

_He felt the familiar weight of a hand on his shoulder and, when he turned, the scene changed._

_It was no longer day, but evening in a canyon of rocks and rubble. Arthur Pendragon stood before him with a sword wound in his gut. His eyes were foggy but even then it seemed like he was looking directly at Merlin._

_He sunk to his knees, skin pale._

_Suddenly standing above him was Morgana, dark robes tattered and eyes glittering wickedly._

_“He was mortal, but he will come back.” Her voice was a serpent’s hiss. “As have I, Emrys.”_

Merlin sat up in a cold sweat, chest heaving in his darkened bedroom. He reached over to turn on his lamp but the power was still out, so he snapped his fingers to light the candles on his window sill.

He looked around himself, aware of his present day safety and the storm raging outside. 

When he calmed his breath and laid back down, staring at the cracked plaster of his ceiling, he wondered about the point of dreams. 

It reminded him of a conversation he’d had with Gwen after Arthur’s passing. 

“Even my nightmares are about him,” she had confessed, so many years ago Merlin couldn’t name a date, “but at least I can still see him.”

Merlin had jabbed the firewood of her chamber with an iron poker. He often slept there with her, keeping her safe from the ghosts that lingered for them both. 

“I feel the same. I’m most afraid for when I stop dreaming of him. Then he will be truly gone.”

Gwen thought about this, tucking her feet up under her. 

“Then we mustn’t push the nightmares away.” 

She had been so right, to the point where Merlin often wished she’d come back and give him advice. So much of his uncertainty could be quenched by a single thought in Gwen’s mind. She was a brilliant Queen and an even more excellent friend, even in her initial awkwardness. 

Merlin’s nightmares of Arthur had subsided centuries ago, but now they returned. The Ley Line surge was a variable Merlin couldn’t understand. Morgana’s threat sent chills through him, but she wasn’t fated to return.

Thunder boomed overhead and Merlin closed his eyes again, hoping for better nightmares.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The posting schedule, as listed before, will be every other day- starting on Dec 13. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! Find me @runestele on Tumblr <3


	3. Forever Marked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We all know Merlin, of course, but the life of "Deryn" is far from monotonous. A friend, a flirtation, and a fall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A glimpse into Merlin's life in Glastonbury! Meet some of my OC's; I love them dearly. 
> 
> Enjoy!

“Put your back into it!” Rhys hollered, “That’s it boys! Up, up, up, up!”

Merlin’s teeth clenched under the strain. He and other men in the town were lifting a monument that last night’s storm had knocked over. It was a giant book statue in front of the elementary school, one that the town held dearly. Merlin was happy to help, but he could have laughed. _Leave it to these men to ignore modern technology in favor of lifting something themselves._

The astonishingly unnecessary display of masculinity somehow worked and the statue stood upright. The children watching cheered.

Merlin clapped his hands together, dusting them off. 

“Deryn!” Owen called out, running up. He was already dressed for football. “You going up to the match today?”

Merlin nodded in consideration, pretending he hadn’t completely forgotten about it.

“Might do. I gotta stop by the tattoo shop before. Carys asked me to—” 

“Shit, you just reminded me, I have more order forms for Lila." Owen shut his eyes tight for a moment, cursing himself. "She wanted me to build her some shelves or something. Maybe I’ll see you there.” A decisive pause. “If you let her give you a Tramp Stamp maybe I’ll call ya.”

Merlin laughed, walking backwards, a teasing smile. 

“I won't, but you’ll still call.”

Owen pretended to throw something at him, just to make Merlin duck, but he didn’t rebut that claim. His face flushed.

“Arse. See ya.” 

Merlin knew it was a bad idea to flirt back, but there was something so nice about Owen’s gaze. He was so very human, funny and charismatic. Merlin allowed himself the small thrill of it, even if only for a moment.

It wasn’t a long walk through town. Merlin saw that most of the buildings were back to their normal state, save for some long streams of remaining water running down the street in a steady flow.

The tattoo shop’s glowing neon sign read _Forever Marked_ , but he knew that to be false advertising. He’d wasted time on a tattoo once, many years ago. It was a constellation design on his upper arm. Most tattoos weren’t meant to last more than a regular lifetime, so Merlin didn’t feel the money was worth it for him to try that again. 

The little bell chimed as he stepped through the door. 

A heavily tattooed woman like Lila stood out easily in a town like this. Her raven hair draped down her back when it wasn't tied back in the way she had it then. It was remarkable to Merlin how her shop stayed open, but he knew deep down it was from all the rebellious eighteen year olds who wanted something extra to hide from mum. 

“You look like shit,” she remarked. Then she remedied, “In a hot way, though. Like when you don’t get any sleep but your genetics still power through.” 

“Thanks,” Merlin said flatly. “I have Carys’s designs. She didn’t give me too much instruction for it, but she’s seen my art before so she knows the style.” 

“Lets see it, then.”

He splayed his drawings out on the table, neatly bordered in notes. She glanced over them, her height forcing her to bend over slightly to see. 

“Hell... Deryn, these are wicked.” 

“I’m glad you think so.” He rounded the table. “This one here, with the interlacing threads, might be difficult but it’s my favorite.” 

“It would be difficult,” she mumbled, thinking aloud. “But I think there’s a lot here that we can use. I don’t think the ones with circles are a good idea, simply because of the placement, but I’ll take these three for the consultation tomorrow.” 

“Perfect,” Merlin said, gathering the rest. “Let me know what she thinks.” 

Lila shot him a look that he could read all too well. Her girlfriend once called it _locking on target_ , and that really wasn't far from the feeling. 

“You’re too good at this. I hope you know that I’d hire you if you’d let me; get you a corner office, and a discount.”

“And I hope you know that I am still afraid of needles. Even being in here makes me squeamish.”

She sighed, “such a pity. I really would love to see the town implode when their _charming_ Deryn steps out with a chest piece.”

He had to laugh at that. She was unnervingly right about the reaction. Having centuries of practice socializing really did wonders for making people feel welcomed. It hadn’t been his intention to befriend nearly everyone in Glastonbury, but it seemed that was the case. 

“Have a good day, Lila.”

“You too, love.” 

The door jingled distantly, even with the bell just over head. Stepping outside brought a sudden striking wave of confusion and fear.

_Around him, he did not see the quaint little town he knew and loved._

_Instead, he saw the valley between mountains, soldiers dying left and right. He knew which battle he stood amongst, the unmistakable setting matched the familiar Pendragon red capes and gold crests adorning many of the knights._

_Another man’s scream swept through Merlin’s blood as a knight was run through directly in front of him._

_Amidst the darkness and clang of swords, he heard incantations shouted and the shriek of Morgana’s dragon. Anger and fury built up within Merlin’s chest. He reached his magic towards the sky and summoned lightning, just as he did centuries before._

“Deryn?” 

The voice and the hands shaking his shoulders snapped him back to reality. 

He was on the ground, looking up at the concerned faces of Lila and Owen. Lila had a phone in her hand, seeming ready to call for help. Owen leaned over him, searching his eyes for signs of concussion and pressing the back of his hand to Merlin’s head. 

“What happened?” Merlin asked.

“You fainted,” Owen said, “right in front of me, just a few seconds ago. If you stayed unconscious longer I’d have been fuckin worried, mate.”

“I _am_ worried.” Lila sounded almost angry. “What are you walking around dehydrated or… Iron deficient for? Scaring me to death?” 

“I’m so sorry.” Merlin sat up more and steadied himself. “I should really get some water and rest, I think.” 

“Yeah, no shit,” Owen laughed, “I don’t recommend you playing today, mate. Let me take you to Beca’s.” 

“No, you should still go with the guys. You were excited. I’ll just get a cab home.” 

Owen deflated a bit. 

“Yeah. If that’s what you want.” 

Lila rolled her eyes, muttering something under her breath.

Merlin stood up and made sure his head was clear while she called him a cab. If he were more sound of mind he’d beat himself for rejecting Owen’s offer. But, at the moment, he was about to throw up with the memory of battle so fresh in his mind. 

The cab ride was silent save for the rain that started up again, pitter-pattering on the taxi windows. 

They drove past the lake. Raindrops made it ripple in different places, detailed like a blanket of a thousand threads. Merlin’s chest felt hollow. The rain started pouring harder. The football game might be cancelled after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Blows a kiss while creating Lila] for the lesbians <3
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	4. Deryn (n.)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In spite of all that plagued him, Merlin was awake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merlin doesn't get a day off

That night, it took Merlin a lengthy second to realize that he was awake. 

He blinked in the darkness, confused. There hadn’t been a startling noise. The rain hadn’t let up all afternoon, but there was no close thunder, just calming distant rumbles. He couldn’t recall a change in light or a bad dream. He just simply... Awoke. 

So he slipped out of bed, tucking his feet into slippers. 

His house was quiet and dark, save for a few candles he sparked with his gaze. The rain was soothing. It was a white noise that filled his ears. He took a seat on his kitchen floor, not for any reason, just because it seemed inviting. Down there, knees bent, he rested his head back on a lower cabinet. 

The thunder rolled again in the distance. He thought of Camelot, as he had been doing more and more so recently. The magic surge from the prior day was adamant to make Merlin reminisce. Sitting there on his floor, he thought deeply. 

Did he want to revisit Camelot? That was a time he locked away for good reason. Living in the hollow bones of it was hard enough as a magic user, but as a resident? As someone who called it home? 

It was painful to live in Glastonbury and think of it as Avalon without kings. He didn’t make a habit of considering it, even if he did call it home. But lately, with the ghosts of his past coming out to play, it seemed impossible to ignore. 

He used to imagine Arthur’s return more often when he was young; ideas of how they’d embrace and share stories, how they’d cry and feel whole once more. Now he couldn’t imagine it. 

The legend had to be a farce. Merlin believed in it less and less as time dragged on. Albion was in peril centuries before and now it was nearly gone for good. The only memory of it was Merlin’s, and Arthur was still gone. 

A noise abruptly ruined the silence. Merlin’s phone from within his bedroom chimed once, twice, three times before he made it to the room. The contact name surprised him. 

“Efa? It’s four am?”

“My daughter isn’t here,” Her voice was choppy but the worry sank through Merlin’s skin. “Someone broke in. I don’t know where she is, I can’t find her. I-I called the police but I needed to tell you.”

_ Oh, God. Carys.  _

“Me?”

“There’s a drawing of your’s left on her desk. It's a… A bird drawing. I know you were planning out her tattoo.”

Merlin felt the chill of panic. 

“Efa, she doesn’t  _ have _ my drawings yet. They’re with Lila. And I never drew her a bird. She didn’t ask me for one.” he began rummaging through his sketchbook. One of the pages he’d surely seen earlier was now torn out, leaving only jagged edges behind. “I drew plants and varying shapes, I never—”

“I know, Deryn. She told me about it a while ago.” She took a deep breath. “I think… Because she is missing... It was meant to frame you.  _ Bird _ is the meaning of your name.” 

Merlin closed his eyes. 

“Oh Efa, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what to say.”

“Listen to me, Deryn. I know you didn’t do it.” She sounded unwaveringly certain; the cool, strict voice only an elderly woman would possess. “I just saw Lila earlier and she said you were ill and went home. This means you don’t have an alibi. I will get rid of the drawing, but you need to figure out who has Carys or where she went off to. You need to do this for me.”

“I will,” Merlin said, without hesitation. 

They hung up and Merlin’s mind raced. The memory he re-lived earlier couldn’t have been random. It was tactical. It was a way to weaken him, to destroy his alibi... And they must have broken into his home to get the picture. The only way to do that would be with magic. 

It didn’t make sense. He was the only warlock in the area, he was certain of it. Magic was something he could sense within other people. It would be like hiding the entire sun in your pocket. Now a girl’s life was at stake and Merlin’s identity was compromised. 

The rain poured outside like it was never, ever, going to stop. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank ya for reading!


	5. The Second Surge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The ground rumbles again and Owen has something to say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was really fun to write! It has one of the first scenes I outlined when I first crafted this fic. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Walking down the street the next day made Merlin uneasy. There were already missing persons flyers on every post. It was difficult enough with the task of finding Carys, but to know that it was malicious toward _him_ was another story.

He stepped into _Hundred Monkeys Cafe_ and found his usual seat. The shop looked as good as new. Beca had on long, dangly earrings. 

“Afternoon, Petal. How are you?”

“I’ve been better,” he said. “I’m worried about Carys.”

Beca’s face dropped. 

“Oh, I know. I can’t go anywhere without seeing those signs. Bloody dreadful. Can I get ya coffee?”

“Just water. I’ll get a sandwich today, I’m starving. What’s on the one I asked about last time?” 

“Mozzarella, pesto, peppers, and chicken.” 

“Perfect, I’ll get that, please.”

“Of course, Love. Out in a mo.” 

Merlin pulled out his sketchpad, unable to do much else. It was eating away at his mind. 

Who could have known he was going to the tattoo shop? Only Lila, Owen, and he supposed anyone at the monument that could have overheard him. He didn’t want to think of any of them as a threat, but he did jot down their names. 

Beca brought his food over and he thanked her.

He considered motive. Lila was profiting from Merlin’s contribution to the business and she would be confident enough to tell him if she felt undermined by his work. It wouldn’t make much sense for it to be her, especially with how worried she was after his collapsing. Owen was close to Merlin, a good friend, undeniably attracted to him. Though it made Merlin blush a little to think about, it didn’t excuse the fact that Merlin’s hesitance to confront their feelings could have sparked hatred or jealousy. Love was a powerful motivator, Merlin could attest. But still, that felt too loose of a claim. Owen had barely gained the courage to flirt. _Actually_ flirt, not friend flirt. And he wasn’t magic, Merlin could feel that. 

Suddenly, someone was seated in the chair ahead of him.

No, not a chair.

_A throne. Upon it sat Morgana, the day she stormed camelot and conquered the throne room. Now, many feet away from Merlin, the throne was tall and ornate. Morgana twirled a snake around her fingers, hair unkempt and an unhinged smile sharper than a blade._

_She looked down, directly at Merlin, and spoke as if he were someone else._

_“Well? Have you done what I’ve asked?”_

Merlin gasped as he returned to the present day. 

The earth was shaking again. Newley secured picture frames rattled. There were crashes and the sounds of shattered glass. He heard Beca cry out from the kitchen. 

This magic surge was larger than the first, making his jaw clench so hard it ached. He held tight to the table and outside he saw someone in the street about to be hit by a falling lamp post. 

Under his breath he spoke an enchantment, knocking the post enough aside to miss them. It hit the concrete with a solid bang, splintering on the ground. 

The lights above Merlin swung. He realized his face was hot.

The spell he just used was a _minor_ one but he felt magic in his hands and feet and every cell in between. It was dizzying and gorgeous. It was the way he felt after summoning lightning.

The ground stopped shaking. The extra magic within him dissolved. He released a shuddering breath. 

In a flash, he got to his feet and ran to the kitchen. Beca was on the ground surrounded by glass, clutching her left arm. Her head had a cut. It was small but enough to make Merlin’s heart crack. 

“Oh, Dear,” Beca said, “this is not how I wanted to spend my week.”

“I don’t blame you,” Merlin said, helping her. “Up you go.”

“If I’d known how bad it would be I’d have stapled everything down; got my nail gun from the garage and set it all in place.”

“Not your fault, Love. Let’s get you to the hospital.”

“Oh, look at you, Deryn. You sound like an old man sometimes. I might mistake you for my husband if I had one.” 

Merlin smiled at her. It didn’t reach his eyes. 

“I’m just an old soul, me.”

He got her out the door and Rhys took over from there, getting her and four other injured shop owners and customers into his car. 

Merlin watched everyone in action, helping each other, setting things back where they should be. He waved to Lila who’s neon sign had fallen and shattered. She waved back and then pointed to the rubble as if to show him her misfortune. He put a hand over his heart. 

As he went back into the building to grab his bag, he thought about how this surge was much more powerful than the first. Unless the Ley Lines were short circuiting, self destructing, or a number of other terrible things, he had no idea what could be happening. 

He grabbed his things and started down the street. He stopped to help Ms.Jones pick up her fallen clothing racks on his way by.

A few blocks later, he passed the Library. Efa stood outside, waving to him. She seemed as though she’d been crying. His heart broke as he waved back, but he couldn’t stop on his trek to the lake. 

As always, the lake was untouched. There wasn’t a single glimpse of chainmail. 

Merlin groaned, running his hands through his hair. 

“If all this magical bullshit is going to happen all at once, what's the point! Are the Ley Lines _broken_ ? Or maybe— I don’t bloody know —trying to _resuscitate_ themselves?” 

The quiet lake didn’t answer. He shook his head. 

“Nothing. Of course. Why do I waste my breath anymore?”

“Deryn?” 

Merlin jumped at the voice coming from far behind him. He turned to see Owen coming over from the road. 

“Owen,” he said, hand splayed over his heart, “you scared me.”

“And you’re yelling at a lake. Should I be worried?”

“No, I just … I come here sometimes to think. To process why bad things happen to good people.”

Owen nodded slowly. 

“I understand. I can’t sleep knowing Carys is gone. She’s my best mate. If anything happened to her... “ He shook his head. “Maybe I should try your method. Just gotta yell at God for a bit and let it out.”

“Don’t knock it ‘till you try it.” He thought for a moment. “Did you follow me here?”

Owen hesitated, looking at Merlin’s shoes and then up at him. 

“Yeah, I did. I just… I’m not daft, I just care. I was outside the shop and saw you leave Beca. I wanted to make sure you were okay.” 

It took Merlin half a second to process his tone. He knew it well.

“Owen—”

“You don’t have to like me back, you know.” 

“But I do,” Merlin insisted, catching his eyes and Owen’s left hand, “and I think you’re great.” 

Owen scanned him for a second before putting his palm on Merlin’s cheek.

“Well… Can I…”

He leaned in, clearly for a kiss, and Merlin nearly followed through. 

But then he remembered where they were. He thought of something golden. The lake gleamed in his peripheral vision. 

“Wait—” Merlin said, and it deeply pained him. “Not… Not here, I just—”

Owen sighed.

“It's funny because I knew you’d do that.”

“No, I like you—”

“That might be true, but I know when someone is distracted. Look, I think you’re amazing, Deryn, but you have so much distance in your eyes. ” He smiled sadly. “More than half the time, it's like you’re here but… Not with us. Not with me.” 

Merlin didn’t have anything to say to that. 

“I’m sorry.”

“It's alright. I’ll see you soon.” 

“Yeah,” Merlin said, “yeah, see you.” 

Owen left and Merlin sat alone by the lake, tracing circles in its glossy surface, making the ripples dance. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit sad, but being an immortal is rough. 
> 
> Find me @runestele on Tumblr xoxo


	6. Take Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Albion's need is greatest...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot can happen in one night. 
> 
> Enjoy <3

That night it rained harder than any other day. 

Before bed, Merlin considered briefly if the rain was like the town cleansing itself after the magic surges. If it was like taking a glass of water after swallowing pills to make sure it goes down easy. 

He called Efa on the phone that night, letting her know that he was looking into her daughter’s disappearance. He brushed over the use of magical scanning, his depth of knowledge of the nearby hills, and other incriminating things. She said that Lila called her that morning to say that Carys never showed up for her consultation, as expected but still so dreaded. Merlin thought of his work laying unused in Lila’s studio, silent and abandoned. 

The call brought him no ease. 

It was nearly midnight so he spelled a protection over his roof, certain that it would leak if he didn’t, and tucked away his suspect list. 

The nightmare that followed was a memory he hadn’t confronted in a very long time. 

_ Morgana Pendragon’s woodland cottage was dark and dreary in a way that was almost purposeful. Her hanging plants were sickly green, wilted, or dark ebony. The walls crawled with bugs. Questionable moisture dripped from the ceiling and the whole thing smelled of burned magic.  _

_ When he hung there, suspended by ropes, he was at his weakest. The venom she used on him, the varying herbs and poisons, they made him frail, sensitive to light and sound. It was excruciating. It was a memory locked away for a long while… Until then.  _

_ Morgana stood in front of him, smiling, but it was an empty gesture. She twirled a knife in her hand. The knife was from the dream, the smile was from a memory. It became apparent that the memory was being reshaped as he slept to see it. _

_ “Hello, Emrys,” she said. “You did an excellent job killing me.”  _

_ Merlin used all of his energy to lift his head.  _

_ “Morgana…” _

_ “Shhh, you’re so pale.” A wider grin. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”  _

_ Morgana laughed, a breathy, humorless sound. Merlin focused on his own breathing. _

_ “Why are you in my dreams?” _

_ “You were right about the Ley Lines. They’re panicking.” She spoke near his ear. “They're so afraid of going out that they’re nearly bursting, trying to revive. It's sad, really. I depend on them for my power just as much as you do.”  _

_ “So… They brought you back… By accident?” _

_ “You could say that, but I prefer the perspective that I rode the wave myself. Being a ghost is a weird thing. And what else does a ghost have on their mind other than tormenting the one that killed them?” _

_ The Morgana in front of him flickered in and out.  _

_ The face changed as it flickered, back and forth between Morgana’s face and Carys’.  _

Finally the flickering stopped on Carys. 

The setting was different as Merlin blinked awake. He wasn’t in his bed any longer. They stood down the road, outside of Merlin’s house. The rain poured around them, shocking him further awake with its deep chill. 

Carys stood a good distance across from him, drenched from the rain as he was, glowing faintly under the streetlamp. It reminded him of a duel’s pace. He wished he had a lance. 

“Carys,” he said, “What are you doing?”

“She came to me in a vision,” Carys said, glare unphased by the rain. “She told me who you were, what you were trying to do to this town. I tried ruining your reputation and scaring you away, but it didn’t work. My mother and the rest of this town is corrupted by you. I’m out of options.” 

Merlin quickly tried to piece it together. 

“You mean when the first surge hit? Morgana reached out to you?”

“She has so much more power now. She can finally stop you.” 

Merlin held his hand out in front of him.

“Please, come with me! It isn’t safe here. I can help. Morgana is draining the life from you—”

**“No, she isn’t.”**

The words doubled in the air around them, deep and echoey all the same. A cloud of deep green magic rose from her hands like mist, glittering amidst the rain. Carys spoke the words, but it seemed Morgana was behind the actions. She threw a blunt cloud of magic his way and it felt like the impact of a car crash as he staggered back, falling to the ground.

**“I was once devoid of the magic you hoarded for yourself. I’m powerful now. She told me that you are at your weakest after dreaming.”**

Merlin looked down at himself. She was right. Morgana could reach through the Ley Lines, use this girl as a vessel, and all he had was a dizziness from torture he endured centuries ago. The rain soaked into his clothes as she hit him again, rolling him further back as he cried out. 

She reached her hands out to him, streaked by streetlights and shining in the pouring rain.

It became immediately clear that she  _ would _ beat him. There was no way he could win. Merlin’s encounters with magical beings had diminished to the single digits over the years. He was out of practice, out of magic, and out of time. 

Without the dwindling Ley Lines charging him, as they once did so well, he would die. 

It was a miraculous thing for an immortal to stare death in the face. He knew he could only truly be killed by another creature possessing magic. Until that moment, the possibility had felt so distant. 

He’d heard stories of death’s closing grip. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t been close to it himself, but that was long ago. All he could think about were the people in town she would kill before the Ley Lines’ power diminished forever. He’d devoted himself to them just to let them down in the end. A magicless Albion left to rot with the bones of those he held dear, both present and past. That felt worse than the prospect of death itself. 

But what choice did he have? The woman ahead of him was the vessel of one of those people. She was the first he’d failed to protect. Tears welled up in Merlin’s eyes. He couldn’t harm her. Even if he could, he didn’t want to. 

So he took a breath, after such a long life, and simply held up his hands. 

At that very moment, Carys was struck by the solid mass of a figure running out of the darkness. 

She fell. In her motion she tried to drag them down with her. They sidestepped and turned, meeting the magic she threw from beneath them. The figure dodged it. They backed up, sizing her up as she stood again and faced them. 

Merlin rushed to wipe the tears and rain from his eyes. 

She shouted, releasing another magical shot, this time emulating a green blaze. The figure groaned, taking the brunt of it, but managing to disperse enough of it with a turn. They used this momentum to lunge at her, swinging a sword. The shine of it dazzled in the lamplight, but it never met her as she ducked. 

She grabbed their arm, but the figure knocked her feet out from beneath her with a well timed strike. She toppled. They shook her grip loose, twisted her, and held a sword over her spine. 

Merlin’s throat seized. For a moment, he couldn’t breathe.

Through the rain it was hard to see anything besides the tiny glistening specks of light dancing off of wet chainmail. The man’s damp blonde hair hung in his face, but it was clear who it was. 

The lake was only a short walk away. 

“ _ Arthur, No! _ ” Merlin shouted, scrambling to his feet and running over as fast as he could. 

Arthur Pendragon, the King to save Albion, looked up in surprise at the first words spoken to him in hundreds upon hundreds of years. 

He said something back, clearly confused, in a dialect Merlin hadn’t heard in lifetimes. 

_ Of course, _ Merlin thought. He’d prepared for this, but never thought the day would come. He stretched his hand as he ran, speaking an enchantment, and Arthur blinked rapidly, suddenly functioning in English. 

“What?”

_ His voice was exactly the same.  _

“You can’t kill her!”

“Why not? She tried to kill you!” His anger and frustration and confusion blended into one. 

Merlin shoved Arthur off of her—  _ oh God, he was real  _ —waving a hand over her head with an up-close, sedative spell that worked instantly. The green smoke faded and her head thumped forward. 

His chest heaved as he looked up at Arthur, much too occupied by the crisis at hand to allow himself a spare moment to process the implications of the man he spoke to. 

“I owe her mother.” 

Arthur shook his head and wiped his eyes and forehead. Watching Merlin do magic in front of him was already enough to make his balance unsteady, but he looked to be sporting a significant migraine. 

“Well, what do we do now?”

“Morgana’s magic is still feeding on her life force. We need to take her back to my house.”

Arthur stared at him, severely lost in meaning. 

“Merlin, Morgana is dead. Camelot isn’t for miles. It would be days until we reach it.”

Merlin was overcome with the incredible need to sob. But he held it back. 

“No, my house is just around that clearing... Arthur,” he said over the downpour, ensuring Arthur’s attention and catching his eyes through the rain. “I know bravery exists in every part of you, but right now I’m going to need you to be very,  _ very _ brave.” 

Arthur was silent, looking more uneasy than he ever had before. 

Then he picked Carys up into his arms. 

“Lead me.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would apologize for the dramatics, but I'm not sorry.


	7. A Deep Breath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After all this time, all this waiting, what do you say?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would absolutely not want to be Merlin tonight.
> 
> Enjoy :)

The thunder outside was a wonderful thing when concealing an exorcism. 

While Morgana’s ghost wasn’t _fully_ inhabiting Carys, it had tendrils locked in parts of her soul that needed very skilled removal.

It wasn’t an easy spell. It took Merlin hours. Carys lied, splayed out across his couch. Different spell books giving him different components of what he needed. Every time he managed to shake one piece loose, Morgana’s magic would attack. The tiny battles ate away at him, but by the fourth hour, Carys was breathing evenly. 

Arthur sat in the armchair the whole time, still dripping even hours later. His chainmail seemed impossibly heavy, but he never stood to remove it. Merlin didn’t glance at him if he could help it. 

It wasn’t that he wasn’t happy to see Arthur. Of course he was. But the momentum, the build up, to finally _lead_ to something… Merlin was so accustomed to waiting that he hadn’t thought of what seeing him again would mean. It was like that phenomenon of feeling so much pain that your brain shuts down so you wouldn’t feel it. Merlin’s heart was so full he couldn’t feel a single thing. 

He excused himself to the other room to call Efa and tell her that he found Carys. He explained that she’d suffered a blow to the head, that she had escaped capture somehow, and had no memory of where she was for the past few days. His spell would ensure that lie emulated truth. 

Efa drove over, the only car on the road that time of night. Merlin carried Carys out to her. 

“She definitely needs to go to hospital. Be careful of her head.”

“Thank you, Deryn,” Efa said, hugging him tight before getting into the car and driving off. 

When he entered the cottage again, he slumped back against the door. It was silent for the first time in hours. He was shockingly not as drained of magic as he expected. That could definitely be attested to Arthur’s presence. The Ley Lines seemed thrilled to see him. 

Arthur sat still, watching him from the living room. 

Merlin stood up straight, reminding himself that this was not a dream. He sat across from Arthur, then spoke gently. 

“I’m sure you have questions.”

Arthur nodded, saying nothing. 

“I’m sure you are overwhelmed.” 

Arthur didn’t nod, but he clearly agreed.

“So my idea is that I can get you some water and bread, tell you only the very necessary information, and then you can choose where you’d like to sleep. Does that sound alright?”

For a split second Merlin was terrified that Arthur would hyperventilate. But he didn’t.

“Yes.” 

Merlin mustered a smile. 

“Good then.” He stood. “Do you want to take that off—”

Arthur shook his head rapidly. The idea of removing his armor was far too soon. 

“Okay. Back in a mo.” 

It was odd to watch Arthur take a tentative sip of his water. Merlin knew the taste of water and food must be so vastly different in the modern day. The way Arthur nearly spit out his bread was indicative of that. He waited until Arthur seemed at peace with his food to start.

“So, I just… I have to ask. How much do you remember about that day? The last day—”

“I remember dying, if that’s what you’re asking.” His voice was acutely hollow. 

“Right. I’ll start with the basics, some that you may already know.” Merlin cleared his throat. “When I first met you I was told it was my destiny to protect you. You were to be a great leader and you needed my skills as a sorcerer in order to live long enough to fulfill your destiny. I hated you at first—” Arthur’s mouth quirked to a smile for a moment, an unexpected but invited sight, “—but I saw that you were going to make a great king. And you were.”

Arthur licked his lips— an anxious tick. 

“When you died,” Merlin continued, “I carried you as far as I could, and eventually had to send your body into the lake that you may be quite familiar with.” Arthur flinched, so Merlin didn’t press. “All of that is what you may know quite well. That all occurred in the 5th century. We are now in the 21st century.”

The silence, as Arthur processed those words, was heavy. Merlin guessed for years at how hard this would be, but seeing it in real time was different. Difficult didn’t begin to describe it. It ached with freshness that didn’t seem possible, and yet it was. 

“The Legend said that you would rise from the Lake when Albion’s need was greatest. Now you are here, very far from your own time, and I have been waiting... Centuries, for you.” Merlin’s voice broke where he wished it didn’t. “And that's all you need to know for now.”

Arthur leaned forward and put his head in his hands for a long moment. 

Then he sat up. 

“I need time to think.”

“Yes. It's very late. Do you want to sleep in this room? My bedroom is just around the corner, in that hallway there. You could also sleep in my bedroom, or I have a room set up for you.” 

Arthur met his eyes. 

“You have a room for me?”

“I told you,” he said, delicately, “I’ve been waiting.”

Arthur nodded, clearly not inhabiting his body quite so easily. His dissociation was predicted and Merlin made a note to check on him later. 

“Can you…” Arthur started slowly, “show me to my room?”

Merlin held out his hand. Slowly, Arthur took it. His hand was warm, calloused, and so very impossibly alive. 

Arthur watched as Merlin stared at his hand in silent shock.

“Merlin—”

“It’s upstairs.” Merlin interrupted, “C’mon.”

Arthur’s room was in the attic. This was an idea Merlin had when the house was built. 

A king, used to high castles and views of his kingdom, would prefer to be able to see as much of the land as possible. The room was painted deep browns and the embellishments were dark reds. It had candles and an old fashioned oil lamp. The room itself was small, but he was worried a large room would be overwhelming. As a small touch of modern times, Merlin had a telescope placed by the window. 

Arthur looked around, touching nothing but the bed. Merlin stood near him.

“Do you need help getting out of your armor?”

“Yes,” Arthur said. Then he looked up. “I don’t have other clothes.” 

“I have some for you, don’t worry.”

Merlin pulled pajamas and undergarments out of a drawer and set them neatly on the bed. 

Arthur evaluated them, how foreign they seemed. He then held his arms out. 

Merlin unclasped the back and shoulder panels, before returning to the front and swearing. 

“Ugh, I barely remember—” He stopped talking when he saw Arthur’s face. Pain rarely showed that clearly. “Sorry, It’s been some time—”

“That time was yesterday for me.”

Merlin quickly shut up and picked up the pace, letting muscle memory echo back from ancient times. It took a while, but eventually Arthur was stripped, free from the weight of armor. Merlin picked up the wet clothes. 

“I’ll see if I can wash these in the morning but I’m not sure if they’ll be usable after being soaked that long. The fabric is very old. I’m sorry.”

Arthur tugged the new shirt over his head. It was tunic length per special request. The whole outfit was some nice form of cotton blend. 

“This is very soft.”

“Yes,” said Merlin. There was a pause. “Okay, I’ll let you get settled in. If you need anything, my room is the door that you saw in the hallway downstairs, right next to the sitting area.”

“Thank you.” He sat down on the bed. “Wait, Merlin...”

Merlin turned again. 

“Yeah?”

Arthur looked at him, truly looked at him, then shook his head. 

“Nothing.”

Merlin handled the brass doorknob with care. There was nothing quite as painful as closing the door behind him. Arthur was out of sight. But even from there he could feel the echoes of Arthur’s impossible heartbeat. 

Merlin took the stairs, noticing a change. The night air smelled sweetly of Camelot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a really fun time writing this scene ngl 
> 
> Find me @ runestele on tumblr


	8. Settling In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the land of the living. Enjoy your stay.

The next morning, Merlin made breakfast. 

In truth, he was awake long before Arthur woke up. He stood in the kitchen, scrambling eggs and buttering toast. He stared out the window all the while. His mind was everywhere, and yet incredibly present all the same. 

His brain played the loop over and over: _Arthur is here. Arthur is here. Arthur is here._

And it still didn’t seem true. 

He’d lied awake most of the night crying the centuries out, thinking about the miracle asleep in the room above him. It was too restless of a night to stay in bed. He could feel something in the air as the rain let up. The ground felt different when he walked on it, treading along the morning dew at sunrise. It was as if the Ley Lines’ attempts to resuscitate were successful and Arthur was the missing heartbeat.

It still felt very foreboding to Merlin that Arthur had returned. _Now_ Albion’s need was greatest _?_ It seemed like the only problem was Morgana; was that the great evil? Merlin had lived through World Wars, slavery, genocides, and _this_ was what brought him back? He couldn’t make sense of it. 

The eggs stuck to the pan, so he scraped at it with the spatula. He heard Arthur’s footsteps on the stairs and it took everything within him not to dismiss it as his ears playing a trick. 

“Good morning.” 

“Are you cooking?” Arthur’s voice was incredulous. 

Merlin looked over his shoulder. 

“What? Is that so preposterous?”

“You were a manservant, not a kitchen maid…”

Merlin laughed and gestured to the seat at his tiny dining table. Arthur took it and Merlin set breakfast down in front of him. 

“What do you want to drink?”

“Anything.” Arthur examined his plate. “I won’t even try to guess what you drink these days.”

“Tea then.”

The minutes spent there were quiet, analytical. They fell into silence as they ate. 

The sun was shining, which was a rare occurrence in Glastonbury, but not so irregular in Camelot. Arthur seemed to be chewing on more than his food, thoughts racing. Merlin almost had to applaud the fact that he wasn’t having a breakdown that very second. 

“You said you waited for me,” Arthur said, breaking the silence. 

“I did.”

“But that's hundreds of years.”

“It is.”

Arthur seemed unbelieving. 

“How did you know I’d come back?”

“Arthur…”

“How did you know—?”

“I didn’t.”

He held Arthur’s eyes, baffled by the familiarity of their stand-off, even after all this time. This was a weighty conversation to have over breakfast, but Merlin was hundreds of years prepared for this interrogation. 

Arthur mulled over the concept some more, biting into his toast. Then he set it down. 

“Can we go back to the lake?”

Merlin’s heart dropped.

“You mean today?” 

“Yes,” Arthur said, “I want to see it in the daylight.”

Merlin’s throat felt dry so he took a long gulp of his tea. 

“Okay. Why?”

Arthur stared down at the table. It took Merlin a few moments to notice that his gaze was set on Merlins hands. 

“I want to see... What is it you saw all this time.”

Merlin was at a loss for words until Arthur’s blue eyes found his.

“If you’d like.” 

He gave Arthur some jeans and a shirt to change into, handing him a hoodie that fit his broad shoulders almost perfectly. It was bizarre and miraculous to see Arthur dressed like a modern man. It was almost unnerving to the point that Merlin had a hard time looking away. 

They walked down the path, Arthur standing very close to Merlin. He had insisted on bringing his sword but Merlin promised that his magic could do the job just fine if they met any danger. Arthur alone would be a lot to explain, but word of a man with a long sword in this small town would spread like a plague. 

The road to the lake was as barren as always. They walked along the stone path, between long fields of green, and down to the lake. Arthur stared out at it, watching fish pop their heads to the surface, bubbles floating up. He looked in, catching his reflection in the water. 

Merlin held his breath. He knew Arthur was back on earth for a reason, but he couldn’t help but think the lake would swallow him for another thousand years if he got too close. 

“So,” Arthur said, “this is where you waited for me.”

Merlin walked up next to him.

“Yes. Every time there was any sort of sign, any disruption, I would come here, waiting to see if you’d walk out. I think it's a bit unfair that after all these years I never actually _saw_ you emerge.”

Arthur nudged his shoulder. 

“I saved your life!”

“Sure, but it's the principle of it.” He kept his voice playfully dismayed. “Anticlimactic not to see you step out of the lake. Those pesky legends really play up the hype.” 

Arthur looked out, his eye catching the glitter of sunlight scattering across the lake. The air was clear and the green of the fields around them were more lush than Merlin remembered them being. 

He barely noticed when Arthur turned to face him, taking his hand. 

“I owe you my gratitude.”

“Oh, you don’t—”

“I do. Of course I do. For everything.” 

Arthur lifted Merlin’s hand half way to his face, then paused.

This was a gesture neither of them expected, nor were prepared to address. Of course, he couldn’t kiss Merlin’s hand. He might have wanted to, but _wanting_ was often not enough in Camelot. 

Arthur lowered their hands. Merlin understood his hesitation. 

“Well, I’m still not sure why you’re here,” Merlin said, changing the subject slightly to free Arthur from confronting that moment. “With Morgana gone, there isn’t a great evil to be defeated.”

Arthur faced the water again. 

“I don’t know. I don’t wish for any great danger, but if that’s why I’m here then I’d rather face it head on.”

“Of course you would,” Merlin let humor seep into his voice again, “That's why I had to save your royal arse more times than I could count.” 

“Shut up,” Arthur said. 

He was smiling. Merlin took his hand again. Neither of them said a word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This whole thing might seem slow and emotionally heavy... And thats because it is! I love angst, thank you for coming. 
> 
> (In all seriousness, I value a telling of this arc where the shock and cultural dissonance doesn't dissipate immediately. Returning to a world that all but forgot about you is not an easy thing. I <3 you, Arthur Pendragon.)


	9. You Saved Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carys knows more than she should. And soon, others will follow.

Merlin didn’t expect to get a call from Efa so soon. He crossed the room to answer by the kitchen window. Arthur, hands busy with a pen and paper at the dining table, watched him take the call with deep interest in its seeming magic.

“Hi Efa.”

“Hello, Love. I’m with Carys.”

Merlin brought a mug down from the cabinet, gesturing silently to the shelf to offer one to Arthur. He shook his head. 

“Is everything alright?”

“Oh yeah, she’s fine.” She paused long enough that Merlin nearly spoke over her, “She’s asking for you. She wants to see you.”

Merlin’s hand stilled. He slowly placed his mug back into the cabinet, a new caution in his voice. 

“She does? Did… Did she say why?” 

“Didn’t say. She’s talking all sorts of nonsense. Stop by if you can. I’m hoping you can make sense of it.” 

“I’ll come now,” Merlin said, quickly. “Nice to hear from you, Efa. I’ll see you soon.” 

“Bye, Dear.” 

Arthur watched as Merlin bolted over to the front hallway to retrieve his coat. 

“What? What is it?”

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.” Merlin tugged the grey scarf around his throat. “I need to visit that girl Morgana possessed. She might remember too much.” 

“Shit,” Arthur repeated. It was almost funny hearing it from him. “‘I’ll come with you.” 

“No,” said Merlin, lacing his shoes, “You held her at sword point. If she remembers that she might—” 

He saw how Arthur’s face fell. It was plainly written how anxious he was for Merlin to leave him alone, even if for an hour at most. Merlin rested his hand on the door frame, softening his gaze. 

“I won't be long, I promise. Keep writing down everything you remember about Camelot. You know how to use the house phone like I showed you?”

Arthur spared a worried glance over to the dark blue wall phone hanging menacingly in the kitchen. 

“Yes...” He said this like he was far from certain. 

Merlin pointed to the phone number on the table. 

“If you need me, my number is right there. Do  _ not _ answer the door if anyone knocks. I’ll be back soon.” 

He locked the door behind him, triple checking. As a last minute thought, he casted an extra protection spell over the house for good measure. Leaving Arthur behind was like tearing off his own arm, but he had to stay rational. 

It was so very possible that his amnesia spell wore off too soon or didn’t cling at all. If that were the case, the trouble would be immense. He ran the possibilities of casting an enchantment on her when he arrived, but knew there would be little chance to get her alone. 

The walk into town wasn’t far, but he decided to catch the first taxi he saw. 

He’d been to the local hospital only a handful of times in his thousands of years in Glastonbury. While he trusted it to stay up to date with the medications and functions of the modern day, he didn’t like to make a habit of letting anyone inspect him for any reason. There were always questions he couldn’t answer, things he couldn’t disclose. It was frustrating for all parties. 

This simply meant that the front desk lady looked at him warily, not used to new faces. 

“Can I help you, sir?” 

“Hi, yes. I’m Deryn Parry. I’m here to see Carys. Her mother asked me to come in.” 

“Just a moment,” she said, eyeing him. 

Merlin glanced around the sterile office as she called the room. He’d tended to the wounds of himself and others so often, he could potentially be overqualified to work there. It was always miraculous to consider how humans could get anything done without magic and herbs, but that was a method long disposed of. What they used now seemed to work just fine. 

“Room 408,” said the woman, placing the phone back down on the receiver. “Second floor. Elevators around the corner.”

“Thank you, Ma’am,” Merlin replied, smiling politely. He tacked on, “I like your snowglobe. And a beautiful family.” 

She looked down to her novelty snowglobe and framed photos as if she’d nearly forgotten they were there. The small desk furnishings were nostalgic, family oriented. She thanked him, startled and flattered, but he was already around the corridor. 

The room wasn’t difficult to find with Efa standing outside the door. She spoke to the nurse hushedly and looked up unsurprised when Merlin approached them.

“Oh, good. You’re here at a good time. She should be awake again soon.”

“Brilliant,” Merlin said, “can I just...?”

Efa nodded, so he turned down the handle and let himself in. 

The room was small and white. It was a typical hospital set up, easily a comfortable size for just one person. Merlin was surprised to find two people in it. 

Seated by Carys’s bedside was Owen, a thin jacket draped over the back of his chair. He seemed as though he’d also just arrived. When he saw Merlin he lifted a hand. 

“Hey.”

“Hey,” Merlin said, suppressing a hint of awkwardness. “How is she?”

“Seems fine. I’ve only just got here but I had a chat with Efa. Apparently she’s delusional.”

Merlin folded his own coat in his lap, taking the seat opposite of Owen, closest to the door. 

“I’m glad delusion is all she has. She was barely conscious when I found her.”

“Whoever did this is one sick bastard,” Owen agreed. Merlin didn’t miss the way Owen snuck a glance up at him. “Funny though...”

“What is?”

“You finding her out by that cottage. Definitely a good thing to have her back safely, but…”

Merlin felt a pinprick of familiarity in Owen’s tone. 

“But what?”

Owen shrugged, looking down at her again. 

“Just awful convenient, isn’t it?” 

There wasn’t time to say more when Carys’s eyes opened. She groaned a bit at the light before shifting, eyeing them both. When she saw Merlin, she woke even more. 

“You,” she said, awe in her voice. “You saved me.” 

She reached for his hand and he took it seamlessly. 

“I’m just glad you’re okay, Love,” he said, a smile lilting his voice.

Her gleeful eyes faded slowly, a memory taking hold. 

“She showed me things about you. She showed me your past. I had no idea one person could suffer quite as much as you have.”

Merlin spared a quick glance up at a confused Owen, before looking down at her. 

“You must be mistaken, Carys. You were unconscious for quite some time. An elaborate dream, perhaps—”

“I watched the lightning.” Her voice was soft, dreamlike. Her eyes fell on distant visions. “The men you struck down… I saw it all. I saw the king fall at Mordred’s sword. I saw the way you dragged him away, toward Camelot, all the way to the lake.” She looked at him with eyes far too old to be her own, but her own nonetheless. “He died in your arms. How do you live on, watching life fade from the eyes of the one you love?”

Merlin wished he could control the dryness of his throat, the tightness of his chest. He refused to tear up. He wouldn’t. 

Owen watched him, panic in his face. 

“Come now, Carys. You’re scaring him. You had a bad dream, that's all.” 

Carys turned to Owen, pity lining her features. 

“He couldn’t love you how you wanted. I hope one day you’ll see how deep this river runs. It is beyond you and I. But he found his king again.” Her eyes turned back to Merlin, deep joy into her face. “You’ve found him, haven’t you? I remember it like an echo. His sword, his language. He has returned to Albion.”

Her hand tightened around Merlin’s. This was the first time in centuries someone else knew the intricacies of what he’d lost, and the impossible, complicated joys of what he’d found once more. The words bubbled out of him before he could consider their weight. 

“I did, and he is safe now. Whatever this world has in store for Albion, he will be there to see it.”

Tears sprung to Carys’s eyes. She was smiling, but also shaking her head 

“You haven’t figured it out yet, have you? Albion is already saved.” 

Merlin leaned closer, “What do you mean?” 

She ignored him, turning to Owen. 

“When he explains it to you, don’t be frightened. Be relieved. It has been a long time since Merlin has had anyone to confide in. He believes he must journey alone and he is wrong.” All the energy that inspired her seemed to vanish. She let go of Merlin’s hand. “I need to sleep. My head… It still hurts bloody awful.”

Owen was stunned speechless. Merlin just tugged his jacket on. 

“Sleep well, Carys. I’ll be back soon.” 

Carys nodded, her eyes already closing. 

“When you erase my memories tonight, do it correctly this time. I could do without a migraine.”

Merlin simply stood, not knowing what to say to that. He went out the door with as much purpose as when he came. 

“Efa,” he said, getting her attention. She looked up from the documents she was signing, seated just outside the door. “She’s alright. I’ve seen this sort of thing before. She’s just trying to make sense of the trauma she endured. I spoke with her and I believe she’ll be better in a few days time.” 

Efa sighed a breath of relief. 

“Good. I thought this visit might help. Thank you, Deryn.” 

Merlin kissed her cheek and started down the corridor. 

As he rounded the corner, he heard the sound of someone’s sneakers squeaking on the polished floor. Muffled shouts also caught up to him as he reached the elevator door. 

“Hey!” Owen was out of breath as he ran up. “Hey? What was all that then?” 

“Keep your voice down, we’re in a hospital.” 

“Oh, don’t you start,” Owen snapped, stepping into the elevator with Merlin and jabbing the button to close the doors. “What did you talk to her like that for? Did you trick her? Hypnotize her?”

“Hypnotize her? Come on.” 

“No,” Owen said. He intercepted Merlin’s eye contact. “I will not  _ come on _ until you tell me what the fuck just happened. She is my friend, alright? My best friend. And right now, from the looks of it, I think you’re the one who kidnapped her.” 

“Do you, Owen?” Merlin demanded, exasperated. “Do you think that I would do that?” The silence answered that question. “You don’t. So either you carry on blabbering about things you know aren’t true, or you let it be.”

Owen stared at him incredulously. 

“I can’t… I can’t. She called you  _ Merlin _ and spoke of kings. I have no idea what any of it means but I know you will explain it to me.” 

“How do you know that?”

“Because she said you would,” Owen rasped. “And I think she’s right.” 

Merlin let that soak in until the frustration bit away at him. 

“ _ Fuck _ ,” he spat. The elevator chimed and the door opened. “Fine. Let's go.”

“Where?” 

“Follow me or don’t, it’s up to you.” 

He heard Owen curse under his breath and jog to catch up as Merlin exited the hospital’s front doors. They were automatic, a bit like magic. 

Owen followed him for blocks, though his light jacket was hardly enough to block out the frigid wind. 

Merlin knew how risky this was. He didn’t agree with Carys in the slightest. Keeping his circle small, barely existent, was what kept him safe. Having no one to confide in was a necessary sacrifice. This? This was a liability risk, but he was cornered into it. 

They made it all the way down to an empty street, just past the library that had a closed sign swinging from the front door. Efa would be back within two days’ time. The people of the town could understand her priorities. 

“Carys isn’t crazy,” Merlin started. They were far enough away from the public. “Neither am I, which I know is what a crazy person would say, but bear with me.” 

The wind toyed with Owen’s curly brown hair.

“Tell me.”

“She was possessed by something too complicated to explain right now, but that thing gave her access to memories from long ago. The exact duration would be the 5th century and the place would be... Well, the earth we are walking right now. Before Glastonbury was Albion, a place of kingdoms and magic. Real magic. Dragons and druids and all the beasts you can think of.” His teeth clenched through the next sentence. “King Arthur was at the brunt of a war and by his side was me, a sorcerer.  _ The _ sorcerer.”

Owen looked at him like he wanted to say something. There wasn’t time for that. 

So Merlin quickened his pace, bringing them both down through the unweeded path that lead to the lake. 

“I wish I could ease you into this, but I have places to be, people waiting. Sorry.” 

Then Merlin whispered an incantation, his eyes glowing their dazzling shade of amber, and the water rose in large droplets. They filled the air around them both. The stunning display was dramatic, though not anywhere near what else Merlin was capable of. It was enough to make his point.

To Owen’s credit, he didn’t faint.

He stood frozen. The droplets that hung around him were equally unmoving. After a moment or two, he reached out and touched one, in awe of how it drifted gently through the air.

“So…” He said after a long minute. “Your name isn’t Deryn.”

Merlin shook his head. 

“My name  _ is _ Deryn, as it is also Merlin and countless others.” He let the droplets swirl delicately back down into the lake. “Now you see why I may have seemed… Distant. A few centuries distant.” 

Owen rubbed his eyes. 

“So let me get this straight. You’re a sorcerer from legends that are actually true, and something evil took Carys, which  _ you _ then defeated? With magic?”

Merlin nodded along with the sentence. 

“Essentially, yes, though I didn’t do it alone.” 

Owen took a moment to think. He looked toward the lake and then quickly back to Merlin, eyes widening. 

“Hang on, wait. She said, your… Lover, the king, died and you brought him to a lake. Was it _this_ lake?” Merlin let Owen unspin that one on his own with his silence. Owen started to look a bit ashamed. “Oh well, fuck... I get why we... Yeah”

“He wasn’t…” Merlin trailed off, finding it complicated to explain. “He wasn’t my  _ lover _ . I loved him. He might have loved me, he might not. Not a lover. There’s a difference. I couldn’t…” He looked out at the water, recalling stolen glances. “They were very, very different times.” 

Owen nodded. Then started shaking his head. 

“I can’t believe you’ve never told anyone! About all this, I mean. I thought we were mates.”

“We are mates,” Merlin said. “If we weren’t I wouldn’t be telling you now.” 

“Didn’t she say the king returned?” Owen asked, suddenly, looking around as if he might have missed him. “She did say that, didn’t she? Is that who helped you?” 

“Yes, he’s back. Took his damn time.” Merlin then realized how long he’d been out. He checked his phone.  _ Four missed calls. _ “Shit, I have to go. I’ve left him alone for much too long.” 

“Okay.” Owen’s eyes darted around. “Well, I’ll call you.”

Merlin turned back for a second. 

“I shouldn’t have to tell you that this secret stays between us, right? And that I will erase the memory of anyone you tell if you betray my trust?”

Owen tsked, smiling in spite of all seriousness.

“Who would believe me anyways?”

Merlin would never admit to the lightness in his gut as he walked away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This update is a bit late, usually I post close to midnight on the day of. Busy time of year. But I hope you enjoyed this chapter nonetheless! I love writing Owen and hopefully you like reading about him! 
> 
> Find me @ Runestele on Tumblr. Stay safe!!


	10. Inevitable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Four missed calls...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for panic attack, mention of bile, dry heaving, distress 
> 
> Enjoy... (sorry)

When Merlin returned home, Arthur was no longer in the chair where he’d left him. 

“ _Shit_ ,” he whispered, kicking off his shoes. 

It would be foolish of him to expect Arthur to sit still. There was something unsettling about the silence. It dawned on him that leaving Arthur alone with his memories and weighty culture shock was perhaps the worst idea he could have had. It wasn't as though he could have brought Arthur into town, but his guilt reigned nonetheless. 

He heard stifled noises from upstairs. 

A jolt of panic drew his brows together as he scaled the stairs two steps a time. 

He ran up to the attic, pushed open the door to Arthur’s room to find it empty. His ears pricked at the sound coming from the bathroom, so he back-tracked. 

“Arthur?” He leaned his head against the door, rapping his knuckles against it. “Arthur, are you okay?” 

Muffled noises became clearer. The sound of Arthur dry heaving and spluttering, gasping for breath around wet tears, made Merlin’s heart sink. He expected this, though he never knew when it would come. He supposed the isolation was what did it.

“Listen to me. I’m right here. I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

There were sobs, but they were the sort no one was meant to hear. The kind of cry that stays stifled, private and ashamed, woven with a very personal sort of agony. 

The heaving turned into coughs, choked and deep. Merlin could picture Arthur’s vulnerable position in his mind’s eye. The pain from deep within him was palpable in the air. He couldn’t take it anymore. 

“I’m coming in.” 

He whispered an enchantment over the door handle and pushed the instant it clicked. 

Arthur was exactly where Merlin thought he would be, on his knees over the toilet with the palms of his hands pressed hard against his eyes. The toilet was basically untainted, never receiving any bile, just brimming with the phantom pain Arthur aimed to expel. 

Merlin took a deep breath, grabbing a glass from the countertop and filling it from the cool side of the tap. He sunk down beside Arthur, hesitant to touch him quite yet. 

“Hey,” He kept his voice gentle, “Arthur, Hey. Shhh, you’re alright, you’re safe. Just breathe.”

Arthur’s hands slipped upwards from his eyes to his head, gripping his golden hair tight as he leaned on his elbows over the toilet bowl. 

Merlin could see now that even with the dizziness and twisting mental pain, Arthur was trying his best to even out his breathing. Merlin breathed with him, loud enough for Arthur to hear and match the rhythm. It worked for a minute or two, until Arthur dissolved into tears again. 

“Oh, Arthur, no.” Merlin finally took this change to place a hand on Arthur’s back and rub in a soothing circular motion. “Come now, it’s alright. You’re taking in a lot. This is more than anyone has  _ ever _ had to process at once, and that is not an exaggeration.” He set the glass down on the ground next to him and repositioned to be closer. “I can’t even imagine what this is like—”

“My kingdom is gone,” Arthur rasped, his voice raw and tearful. “My—”

He couldn’t continue the thought, the horrors of this far too fresh. 

They’d spent every moment together in Camelot, centuries before, and the only time he’d been there for Arthur like this was after King Uther died. He remembered only vague snapshots of that day, when he’d climbed into Arthur’s bed to hold him as he cried until the torches burned down. 

This was so very different, accompanied by shock Merlin could only try to aid him through. 

“I can never go home,” Arthur choked, “I will never see my wife again. Nor my people. Everyone I’ve ever known. They’re all dead and I wasn’t there. Now I am nothing—”

“Hey,” Merlin blurted, voice increasing volume, “Arthur.” He forced Arthur to turn toward him, taking his face into his hands and meeting his red rimmed eyes. “You will always be the King of Camelot. Your people, your friends,  _ Guinevere _ will live on, only because  _ you _ exist to remember them.” In spite of himself, Merlin’s own tears began to fall. “So don’t you dare say that you are nothing, Arthur Pendragon. I didn’t wait thousands of years for nothing. You are the reason my home still lives, don’t you  _ dare _ .”

Arthur’s shuddering breath and twisting features fell out of sight as Merlin tugged him into a tight embrace. 

They stayed like that, on the floor, aching into eachother’s warmth for what felt like hours, until Arthur’s breathing steadied and he drained the glass of water. Merlin memorized the way Arthur gripped Merlin’s shirt like he’d drift away if he didn’t.

The sun went down outside the window and the room gained a dusty blue tint as it darkened. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew... Well, at least now the worst part is over, you did it, so you can expect a chapter on Christmas that will hopefully make up for this angst.
> 
> Stay safe! See you soon!


	11. The Last Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, even the bravest kings need a bit of courage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The 24th of December was the anniversary of the saddest ending I've ever watched. That day has passed. Here is my attempt to remedy some of those feelings. No more sadness, no more mourning; just a king and his sorcerer. 
> 
> Enjoy <3

Merlin sat alone in his darkened kitchen for the second time in recent weeks. 

It was an odd habit to pick up. He cupped his mug, bringing it closer to his chest, and let the warmth melt through his clothes. The tea inside was sure to get cold soon. Drinking it wasn’t on his mind, however. There was far too much else taking up space. 

He’d returned to the hospital earlier that night, when Efa was gone and Carys had no more visitors. He left when he knew Arthur was asleep and returned as quick as he could. The memory spell was more powerful this time. He was certain it would work. When he got home, Arthur was still sound asleep, just as Merlin had expected. 

A breakdown of Arthur’s magnitude took a lot out of him. By the time Merlin got him in bed, he was drained. He slept immediately. He supposed that was meant to happen sooner rather than later, but it hurt all the same. Merlin enjoyed nothing about seeing Arthur in that state. It didn’t escape his notice that this was the first time in many lifetimes that he’d held Arthur in his arms. He refused to think about the similarities it bore to their final farewell. 

He unfolded his legs, crossing them the opposite way, and thought of Owen. 

None of that was supposed to happen.

The more he thought about it, the more he regretted it. It was a blessing that Owen took the news well, but how long would that last? How long before Owen convinced himself it had been trickery? How long until Owen goes to the police, claiming Merlin drugged him and kidnapped Carys? The possibilities seemed unlikely, but in the grand scheme of his life, Merlin knew how humans reacted to the truth. This wasn’t his first, or tenth, or hundredth mistake.

He did remember how Owen asked about Arthur. There was a guilt in his face Merlin couldn’t forget. There was no way he could have known about the lake, about Arthur. Merlin couldn’t possibly hold that against him, yet Owen suspected he did. This was a good man with a good heart. Merlin knew that long before all of this. 

“Merlin?”

His name made him jump. 

The only other man in the cottage rounded the staircase, a plush robe tied tight around him with a chord. His blonde hair was messed up from sleep. Even in the dim candlelight, Arthur’s eyes were clearly still tender from crying.

Merlin sat up straighter. 

“What are you doing awake?”

“I could ask you the same. What are you doing on the floor?”

Merlin shrugged. 

“It’s nice here.”

Arthur seemed to only half agree. He looked over his shoulder to the couch in the living area, then gestured with his thumb. 

They sat on opposite ends of the couch. Arthur pulled a pillow to his chest, hugging it thoughtfully. Merlin’s tea was lukewarm, so he spoke words of enchantment to make it steam again. 

Arthur shook his head, eyes rolling to the ceiling.

“That is  _ such _ a cheat.”

“I kept your baths hot for years with that method,” Merlin chided. “You should be thankful I’m often both lazy and resourceful.”

Arthur laughed. It was a rough sound, too raspy to sound natural, but enough to put Merlin’s anxious heart to rest. 

“How was the girl?”

“Carys? She’s fine. She seemed to share many of Morgana’s memories. I erased them, don’t worry.” He took a sip of his tea. “I had to tell my friend Owen about my magic today. He knew too much. It went well, though, I trust him.”

“You trust him,” Arthur echoed. There was something unreadable about his face. “Well, he must be very lucky.”

“Maybe you should meet him.”

“I’d rather not.”

“Why not?”

Arthur didn’t answer. He repositioned to get more comfortable on the couch. 

“Can I ask you something?”

Merlin brought his mug to his lips again.

“Sure.”

“Can you tell me about the Camelot that existed after my passing? I want to know.”

The weight of this request sank like a stone to the bottom of the ocean. Merlin’s mug felt heavier now. He set it on the table. 

“Of course. Where should I begin?”

“Wherever you’d like.”

After taking a moment to think, Merlin waved his hand in the direction of the fireplace, bringing the wood to life with bright flames. He took a deep breath and slowly cracked open that section of his memory. 

He spoke with his eyes closed. 

“After you died, it took some time before the war was won, but we did win it. Morgana was slain, her army was without its leaders, and eventually it dwindled out like a dying ember. Camelot rejoyed, but it was a lifeless joy.” He let a pause sit heavy in the air. “More than anything, Camelot mourned. It mourned you, it mourned it’s trusted knights. The survivors all saw to the immediate inauguration of Queen Guinevere. She was brilliant, level headed, and deeply sad in the same way her citizens were. I think that was part of what made her such a great leader. She was once one of them. She held their pain and their experiences in her heart, and she ruled them with care and dignity.” 

Merlin could hear the fire crackling. Arthur stayed silent. The clock in the corner ticked loudly. It was a metronome to guide the rhythm of his story. 

“I stayed by her side. We comforted each other until the nights blended into years. She legalized magic, bringing in sorcerers, like me, who were willing to teach others how to control and respect their powers. With nationwide instruction and guidance, magic was harmonious in the land. Magic users were at peace, not at war. Camelot, for a time, was beautiful, thriving, glorious. They resurrected a plaque in the throne room. It had your shield, your crest, your name. The round table was reinstated and stronger than ever. And then I left.”

Merlin opened his eyes. Arthur’s eyes were shining but a new look of confusion adorned him.

“You left?” 

“Camelot was strong. My duty to ensure that you reigned rightful king had proven a failure, but my other goals were satisfied. Gwen had other magic users to guide her. So, I moved away from Camelot. I returned to the lake with my new destiny, to await your return.” Merlin gestured around them. “I had this very cottage built. Well, not  _ this _ exact cottage. The first two versions of it burned down at different points in history.” He smiled reassuringly, meeting Arthur’s eyes. “I always visited Gwen, when she was alive. I saw her successors take the crown. I saw them make wise and terrible and brilliant and catastrophic decisions. And each time I wondered which decision would bring you back.” 

Arthur let this information hang in the air around him. 

“I’m glad she had you,” he said finally. “And you had her.” 

“I’m not certain I could have made it through without her,” Merlin admitted. “She and I were never closer friends than when we taught each other how to laugh again. She was so beautiful, you know, especially as she aged. I once informed her of when she finally looked as wise as she was. She’d laughed, threatening to set the dogs on me for a notion like that.”

Arthur laughed. His eyes were fond but so deeply sad. It was clear that no amount of stories would ever bring him peace, but it was as close as he could get. 

“So she remarried, I’m assuming,” Arthur said, “what about you? Don’t tell me you stayed alone all this time.”

Merlin rolled his eyes. 

“Rude. I managed a few great romances in my lifetime, thank you very much.”

“Good.” 

The word was soft and sweet. It reminded Merlin of rose petals. 

“Why  _ are _ you awake?” Merlin asked finally. 

Arthur licked his bottom lip. 

“I woke up, hoping, yet again, this had all been a horrible dream. It wasn’t. Then I looked out the window and saw that all the stars were gone.” He said it like he should have expected such a travesty. “It was yet another terrible facet of this new era. Another sign that this nightmare is real. So I came to find you.”

Merlin clicked his tongue regretfully. 

“Ah, I should have warned you about light pollution. Humans made a terrible mess of this world while you were away. Though, there are still places where the stars are visible. I’ll take you there.”

Arthur’s face flickered in the firelight. Something changed.

“I’m sorry you had to wait so long just for me to return and eat all of your crisps.” He let Merlin laugh a moment before he continued. “But I am happy you’re here. I’m happy it’s  _ you _ because...I…” He trailed off, looking around like he was searching for something specific. Then he trained his gaze toward Merlin, stating, “I need some air.”

The fire cracked extra loudly. Merlin blinked back at him.

“Alright. Um—”

“Get you coat,” Arthur said, now standing.

“Oh, I’m coming? Where are we going?”

“The lake.”

Merlin groaned. 

“Arthur, not again. It’s three in the morning.”

“We’re  _ going _ .” Arthur’s eyes shone with purpose and an energy Merlin hadn’t seen in the last few days. “I need something from there.”

Merlin couldn’t find it in him to argue. It had been a very long day. He stood up slowly, catching the jacket Arthur tossed to him. He laced his shoes and followed Arthur’s lead out the door. 

From there, it was clear Arthur didn’t know where he was going, so Merlin stepped to the front.

He couldn’t think of a single good reason to go to the lake. He wondered if Arthur had some sort of tie to the lake, like Stockholm Syndrome. If that were the case, he would have to start refusing Arthur’s demands to visit. 

The lake was so still this time of night. A few streetlamps scattered around the paths made it easy to see at least, but Merlin was still wary of foxes. If he ran into any wildlife, Arthur would be sure to get an earful. 

But Arthur’s gaze was set ahead. He seemed severely determined in a way that landed deep in the realm of confusing. Merlin couldn’t muster it. He’d met his quota for being confused those past few days and didn’t have the energy for it. 

“Okay,” Merlin gestured ahead, “are you satisfied—”

“Closer,” Arthur said, grabbing Merlin’s arm. 

They could hear toads in the distance, the chatter of bugs under the waxing gibbous moon. It was only the tiniest bit cloudy and there was only a speckle of stars in the very corner of his vision. Merlin was so familiar with that landscape, he barely took the time to admire it anymore. 

Arthur tugged Merlin along until they reached the water’s edge. When they stopped, Arthur turned toward him, speaking rapidly, like the words burned his tongue. 

“I’ve wanted to do this a thousand times and was too much of a coward to manage even once.”

“Arthur, what—?”

“I should have done it when I returned with that  _ stupid _ antidote. And again after we were separated in that damned forest,” Arthur stepped closer to Merlin, now cupping his face. “And again when we arrived at Ealdor—  _ just _ to see that bastard, William’s, face.”

“Okay, you’re delirious,” Merlin laughed, but his pulse raced.

“Maybe I am,” Arthur admitted, glancing at the lake. “But I’ve realized something about time. It disappears fast, especially when you try to hold onto it.” The hand on Merlin’s arm slid down to his wrist. “I realized today that I have spent enough time asleep to know when I’m awake. And I’ve  _ never _ done this while awake.”

Merlin could barely comprehend that confession before Arthur’s mouth met his. 

It had been decades since Merlin last imagined what this particular kiss would feel like. Back then it was graced with all the stolen touches, the silent gestures, the things they couldn’t dare speak about but somehow knew. 

Now, in the moment, he made sure to memorize it. The heat, the movement, the passion, the joy. It all blended together like the splashing, bubbling pool at the end of a waterfall. 

He closed his eyes, pulling Arthur tighter against him, kissing back. Arthur was centuries out of practice and Merlin didn’t care. He didn’t give a damn about anything in the world. He would wait another thousand years by any body of water If it meant Arthur would hold him this close again. 

They broke apart and Merlin lightly smacked Arthur on the head. 

“Idiot!” 

“What?” 

“You dragged me all the way down to a lake in the middle of the bloody night? For  _ this _ ? What was wrong with the living room? Too warm? Too comfortable?” 

The laughter in his voice dulled that complaint considerably as Arthur put his arms around Merlin’s neck. 

“Being outside… It…” Arthur couldn’t explain with Merlin’s eyes on him, so he rested their foreheads together, eyes closing. When he spoke, his voice was softer than the satin moonlight. “The last time I tried to confess to you was when I...”

Merlin stirred that thought a bit, all amusement dissolving from him.

“Oh,” he said, “You mean…”

Arthur sounded sheepish. 

“I asked you to hold me, didn’t I?” 

Crickets filled the solemn air. 

“Oh, you… You foolish man.”

Arthur kissed the space between Merlin’s eyes. 

“Forgive me.”

“You know I do.” It was then that Merlin realized the only warmth on that frigid night came from their shared body heat. “ _ Christ _ , it’s cold. Back to the house. Now.”

“For once, I can’t disagree.” 

“Yet another miracle.”

It was only when the door clicked shut behind them that Merlin realized his house was now a home. One day he would teach Arthur how to use the telescope by his window, see the few remaining stars left in the night sky. For now, they could lie awake just a bit longer. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you celebrate it, Merry Christmas! If you don't, I hope this can be an adequate bandaid for an age old heartache. 
> 
> Find me @ runestele on Tumblr. Stay safe everyone!


	12. Waking Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A moment of peace and clarity, undeniably well deserved.

They shared Arthur’s bed that night, ignoring how cramped it was to lay there. 

Merlin woke to Arthur’s head on his chest. He threaded his fingers through Arthur’s hair, rhythmically. The King made sleepy noises, soft and trusting. It was sweet, but not nearly as comforting as the knowledge that dawned on him through the dusty sunbeams.

It was much too hot under the covers so Merlin kicked them off. 

“Bastard,” Arthur muttered in the cold, now awake. 

“Guilty,” Merlin said. 

He kissed Arthur’s head. 

In surprise, Arthur lifted his head much too fast and knocked Merlin’s jaw. They both cried out. 

“Oh, fucking  _ Hell— _ ”

“God, you’re such an idiot, Merlin. You can’t just  _ kiss _ me!”

“I can’t?” He said, testing out his jaw, “That's hypocritical—”

“Alright, alright.” He ducked his head again, recalling the night before with embarrassment. “Fair point.” 

Merlin took that moment of foolishness to toy with Arthur’s hand. He’d wanted to do that for years. He remembered days of the two of them lounging in the king’s quarters with nothing to do. Those lazy days, the ones spent by the fire telling stories, or mapping out new routes for scout teams, were his favorite.

“I think I figured out why you’ve returned.”

Arthur hummed in response, staring up at the ceiling.

“Do tell.”

“Carys said something to me about Albion already being saved. I thought she was just rambling impossibilities, but then I thought more about it. I think she’s right, and the answer is much more simple than we made it out to be.” 

“So what are you saying?”

“I think if I’d died at the hand of Morgana that night, she would have drained the rest of the Ley Lines. Not only would magic be lost, but there would be no one left to remember Albion.” Merlin traced along the back of Arthur’s hand. “Now there are two. Three, if you count Owen, but that’s pushing it.” 

Arthur sat up a bit, leaning on his elbow. 

“That makes sense, but Albion has been withering from memory for a long time. Why wait thousands of years to bring me back?”

“Well… It took this long for Albion to be almost entirely forgotten. Once something is forgotten, it is truly gone. Gwen taught me that.” They shared a silence, thinking fondly of her. “The legend claimed that when Albion needed you, you would return. In this case, that meant saving me and the Ley Lines that hold my power.”

Arthur nodded, following, or at least pretending to. 

“So you’re saying  _ you _ needed me? That’s rubbish.”

“Hey!” Merlin swatted him. “It’s nice! It’s romantic.”

“I don’t like it. Wake me when you’ve figured out what beast needs slaying.”

Merlin shook his head. 

“How  _ did _ your ego fit in this bed, I wonder.”

“You little—”

Merlin laughed louder as Arthur kissed him quiet. 

Laying there was easy. Too easy. Merlin could have stayed in that moment forever, fingertips gracing Arthur’s collarbone. If he had figured it out, if Albion was saved like Carys foretold, then he thought of immortality. 

Something was different about Arthur, the way the air touched his skin, the way his eyes caught the light. At first Merlin had brushed it off as the glow of a man returned from the waves. Now, He wondered if Arthur, born of magic more than once, was now as ageless as he was.

He supposed one day they’d get an answer to that. It wasn’t worth a conversation quite yet, but as Merlin kissed him, he wondered. 

Arthur’s heartbeat was such a joyful sound and his laugh took the weight off of Merlin’s shoulders. Sunlight danced around the room like the promise of something better yet to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed and had a great holiday! I just ! Love them! 
> 
> Stay safe everyone!! <3


	13. In Good Company

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Getting back in tune with his life in Glastonbury was a necessary evil, though perhaps not evil at all.

The tattoo sign was in perfect shape when Merlin approached the shop. The neon letters of Forever Marked glowed brightly, new and improved. This time, the fluorescents were pink. Merlin thought it was a nice touch to add stencil decals to the front windows. 

The door chimed a familiar sound. A fake plant nearly toppled over as he peeked the corner. 

“Lila?”

“Over here!” Her voice rang from the storage closet in the back. “One second!” 

Merlin walked to the table and laid out his newest designs one by one. They were mystical, more abstract than the first. Some included books, others included wisps of smoke. He kept them thin and delicate. Something about making them bold would be too aggressive and too soon. 

“Alright!” Lila announced, joining him, “What have we got?”

“The instructions were clear at least. She wanted to add a fantasy aspect, something more magical, fantastical. I don’t know much about that sort of thing so it took some googling, but…” 

Lila pulled a few pieces closer to her, inspecting them. 

“Oh, this one is it, mate. I love the smoke, I love the white space made to emulate sparkles without being tacky or overdone. The line work on  _ this _ one is my favorite, but I think we could combine the two easily.” She put on her professional voice, most likely an accident. “The size isn’t too much of an issue. I can scan and resize, but this looks great!” 

“Good! I felt it was the least I could do. Carys has had a rough time lately.”

“You’re tellin’ me. Poor thing. I wonder what made her change her tattoo vision.”

Merlin shrugged. 

“I think maybe she had enough of reality lately. Something fantastical might be a nice change.” 

This was an obvious lie. Merlin did his best to redirect any speculation, which meant even the smallest of bases needed covering. Carys’s memory was wiped this time, he was certain, but even a memory wipe can’t hold back the subconscious craving for magic once there’d been a taste.

“Right then, thank you, Deryn. A pleasure as always.”

“The pleasure is all mine. Is Owen working today?”

Lila eyed him the way she always did when Owen was mentioned. There wasn’t enough time in the world to clear that one up for her.

“Yeah, should be in.” 

“Perfect. See ya.”

She gave a half wave. 

“Bye bye.” 

The carpentry shop was only a block down the road. It wasn’t strictly a family business, but Owen was the only non-Samuel to work at  _ Samuel’s _ . It made him easier to spot. Merlin caught him through the window, already noting his uniform and backwards cap. It took only a moment of standing outside to catch his eye. 

Owen waved and lifted a finger. _ One moment. _ Merlin waited, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.  Owen emerged, bell on the door jingling as he called over his shoulder. 

“I’ll just be out a minute!” He then turned to Merlin, zipping up his hoodie. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Merlin said. “I wanted to check in on you. It's been a weird few days.”

Owen laughed, stuffing his hands in his pockets. 

“You could say that. You could  _ definitely _ say that.” He leaned against the building. “Nah, I’m fine. Don’t worry about me. Everything’s the same here at the shop. Carys is back to her old self. You’re the only one missing in town these days. Are  _ you _ okay?”

“I’m fine,” Merlin said, “really. Better than I’ve been in a while actually.” 

Owen pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He held up the box. 

“Cig?”

Merlin politely declined. Owen’s lighter sparked.

“Well, I’m glad you’re doing well. I’ve been thinking about what living with an ancient king would be like. I reckon he’d threaten to have my head chopped off six times before tea.” 

This observation startled a laugh from Merlin. 

“No, no. It’s not like that at all actually. He, um…. Well… I finally told him. You know… How I feel. Or rather,  _ he _ told  _ me _ . So, um, it’s good.”

Owen’s eyes widened.

“No shit?” He held out his hand for a solid high five. “Nice, mate! Your week’s probably been better than most of my year. Damn.” He took a long drag. "Honestly, I don’t know how I thought I had a chance with you. How could I compare with royalty?” 

“Bullshit,” Merlin said, “He’s a stubborn prick with an inflated ego.”

Owen made a teasing face. 

“Oh, you’ve got it  _ bad _ , mate. Might as well marry the fucker.”

“Fuck off,” Merlin shoved him. 

“Gonna turn me into a newt?”

“You’re a royal pain.”

“I’m not the one snogging a king, mate.”

From inside the building, someone yelled Owen’s name. 

Owen sighed, pointing at thumb to the door. 

“Gotta run. Footy match this Friday. Don’t forget. Bring your man.” 

Merlin waved, considering if bringing Arthur would be a terrible choice or a brilliant one. 

“Friday. Got it.” 

Merlin stuffed his hands in his pockets and walked over the hill. 

He started considering that maybe Carys was right. Having someone in the town he could be authentic with really took some weight off of his shoulders. Owen was a friend he had kept at arm's length, but now, talking to him made Merlin feel light. 

His phone chimed in his pocket. 

“Arthur?” he answered. 

“Merlin.” Arthur sounded relieved. “Are you coming home soon?”

“Yes, I’m on my way now.”

“Great. I think I have made significant progress with Google. Though, what is  _ Monty Python _ ? It shows up as an option when I research my name, but its very confusing.”

A wicked grin spread across Merlin’s face. 

“A documentary.” His stomach growled. “Do you have any requests for dinner?”

“Chicken.”

This was not a surprise. 

“A king’s meal. Chicken it is then. See you in a bit.” 

Merlin couldn’t fight down the stupidly giddy smile that rose to his face. This time, oddly enough, he didn’t want to. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in posting this chapter. I've had a really rough few days. Please try to be safe out there, everyone. 
> 
> As always, thank you for reading! Your feedback means the world to me! I've been having a lot of fun with the OC's if you couldn't tell. Merlin needs some modern support!! Much love <3


	14. Cared For

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur is adjusting slowly, but surely. Merlin draws him a bath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year!!! I'll post this chapter now and the final chapter soon. 
> 
> Warnings for nudity, briefly sexual, apply. Nothing explicit, but it is tactile. 
> 
> Enjoy! <3

Arthur wouldn’t admit to the strain he felt. This was something Merlin was quite familiar with, transcending years between them. It was hard enough to get Arthur to admit of an ailment severe like a fever when he had other things on his mind. Muscle tension was never brought to light until the pain was too much to mask. 

This new era, no regular training like his battles would demand,  _ and _ new temperature shifts had a deep effect. It was increasingly clear that Arthur’s body was struggling to keep up. 

As they tidied up after dinner, Arthur couldn’t stop the wince as he extended his arm. 

“Nope,” Merlin said, “None of that.” 

“What?” Arthur feigned innocence. “None of what?”

“No. You’re ridiculous. I’m drawing you a bath.” 

Arthur set his cleaned dishes on the counter, wiping off his hands with a towel. 

“You remember how to do that?”

Merlin laughed.

“I don’t just draw baths for you, your highness. I’ve done them for myself these past few centuries.”

It was Arthur’s abnormally long glance out the window that brought Merlin to wrap his arms around Arthur from behind. 

“Hey,” he said softly. “I don’t like seeing you in pain. You aren’t a very good actor.” 

Arthur sighed, rolling his eyes halfheartedly 

“I’m... I just…”

“Arthur,” Merlin said seriously, his tone leveled, “I want to help you. Let me.”

Clearly, the warm hug from behind and low voice in his ear wore away at Arthur’s resolve. He let his head fall forward, then nodded.

“Alright, fine. I’ll be up in a minute.”

“Good.” Then Merlin stage-whispered, “that was the illusion of choice.”

As he let Arthur go, he felt the low thrum of Arthur’s silent laugh.

The sun sank below the horizon and Merlin brought a few candles and towels up to the bathroom while the steaming water filled the tub. Arthur sat on the side of the bathtub, taking this time to admire the scene. 

Merlin sprinkled some oils into the bath and swished the water around, smiling when Arthur looked at him skeptically. 

“It's not magic, promise. All natural. I didn’t wait all this time just to turn you into a toad.” 

Arthur’s nose scrunched, looking upward in consideration. 

“I wouldn’t put it past you.”

The candles filled the room with warm light. It was clear the use of candles instead of electric light put Arthur more at ease, even among the room’s other modern furnishings. The bathtub was enclosed in the wall’s nook. With brown and grey stone walls, the candles looked elegant when balanced on the edge. 

Arthur stripped off his clothes and sunk in, sighing as the heat coaxed his tense muscles to release. He swished the water around, making the flames’ reflections swirl and dance. 

Merlin closed the toilet lid and sat there, watching him. 

“Better?”

“Much.” There was something else on the tip of his tongue. “Merlin…”

“Yes?”

“Can you—” He stopped. “If you want to… I don’t know if—”

“Arthur,” Merlin softly interjected, “It's just us here. Ask.”

Arthur ran a drenched hand through his hair. 

“I’d like you to join me.” 

He spoke like he was surprised to have found the words at all, never mind string them in that order. If there was any thought to ramble something more, Merlin stood, effectively silencing him. 

Merlin pulled his shirt over his head and unbuckled his belt. Arthur’s eyes followed his trousers all the way to the floor and weighed heavy on his skin moments after. Merlin would be lying if he said his heart wasn’t racing because of it. 

After kicking his trousers and pants aside, he lowered himself into the water on the opposite end of the bath. The water was still hot to the touch. 

Arthur’s eyes never parted from him. Merlin wondered how long that specific look was aimed at him in all the time he never noticed. It almost made him sad, but he didn’t want to be sad. Not there. Not then. 

“If you turn around, I can wash your hair,” Merlin offered. 

Arthur turned instantly, mindful of spilling the water. 

It had been a long time since someone trusted Merlin in this way. Sure, Merlin allowed for friendships, but rarely intimacy, and even more seldom going both ways. Just sitting there in the water was an act of bravery. He wanted to kiss Arthur senseless for it, but instead he focused on the task at hand. 

Merlin lifted a dripping palm to Arthur’s golden hair. He’d done this many times in the King’s chambers, but this was different. This was softer, sweeter. Any element of status was gone and all that remained was them.

He wondered if Arthur could feel the difference.

He ran his fingers across Arthur’s scalp, circular motions to relieve the sharp edge of a migraine he knew Arthur fought since the day of his return. Then he let his hands sink down to Arthur’s neck and shoulders, thumbing the tension out of his muscles. Arthur made a sound, accidental, but signifying the relief he felt. 

The sound was dizzying, drawing out something deep. Merlin wanted to hear it again. 

He traced along Arthur’s spine, pushing just enough to feel its alignment. He then smoothed his hands over the skin, admiring the planes of it, before returning his attention to the base of Arthur’s neck. 

“You’re good at this,” Arthur said, just above a whisper. 

“Thank you.”

“Get much practice?”

“Somewhat.” There was a long pause that prompted him to ask, “Problem?”

Arthur’s response was interrupted by his own light sigh as Merlin worked out a particular knot in his back. 

“No. I’m grateful… Possibly honored.”

Merlin hummed.

“Good answer.” 

Merlin’s hands moved down his spine again. Then he got daring, reaching around slowly, across Arthur’s ribs, landing on his chest. With this leverage, he pulled himself close, pressed to Arthur’s back. It was there that he could feel just how Arthur’s heartbeat quickened when Merlin pressed a kiss to the back of his neck. And then another, just under his ear. 

“Arthur?”

“Yes?”

“Is this okay?”

“Its more than okay. Don’t stop on my account.”

Merlin laughed against his neck. He kept his mouth just below Arthur’s jaw with obvious intent to leave a mark.  Arthur leaned into it, keen on what might happen next, but a faint chiming sound made them both sit alert.

It was muffled, but now more obvious. Merlin’s mobile rang urgently from his pocket. 

Merlin leaned away from Arthur. His hand grabbed around the floor until he dug it out.

“It’s Efa.”

“Ah… I suppose you can stop on  _ her _ account,” Arthur grumbled, turning just enough to make his irritation visible. 

Merlin patted the side of Arthur’s face affectionately, before lifting from the water. 

“Hi Efa,” He answered. 

“Hi Dear. I’m sorry to call so late. I know you’re busy.”

“Oh, I’m not busy. It's nothing really. What can I help you with?”

Arthur rolled his eyes, mouthing  _ nothing really  _ in spite. Merlin held back a laugh and tugged a towel around his waist. 

“Well,” she said, “I volunteered to help with the primary school. I know you mentioned you love working with the children, so I wanted to ask if you’d help with an art project.” This captured Merlin’s attention. “They want to put a mural on the side of the school building. The kids need help designing and would love to paint it with you.”

Merlin stepped out into the hallway, shutting the door behind him.

“Really? That would be great. But are you sure I’m the best option? I don’t usually design for a large scale.”

“Nonsense, you’re incredibly talented and the kids love you. You’ll get a stipend. I think it would be fun.”

“I’d love to. Thank you for considering me, I don’t know what to say.” 

“You brought my daughter back to me,” Efa reminded. “There are few souls in the world like yours, Deryn.” She continued on. “Come by the library tomorrow to go over details. I think this project will be good for you. Goodnight, Love.” 

Merlin was too stunned to say anything more than, “Goodnight.” 

And as quick as she called, she was gone. 

Merlin peeked into the bathroom to see Arthur draining the tub, drying off next to it. 

Arthur spotted him.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” Merlin said, his smile was impossible to suppress. 

“Good call, then?”

“Great call.” Then, immediately: “Do you feel better? Shoulders working alright? Muscles… properly functioning?” 

Arthur blinked at the sudden line of questioning. 

“Yes?”

“Good. I need your help with something.”

Arthur was entirely lost. 

“With what?”

Merlin leaned on the doorframe. When he spoke, his voice lingered, words deliberate.

“Why don’t you meet me in my room and find out?” Merlin’s eyes were incredibly easy to read. He gestured to the candles. “Quick as you can. Don’t make me wait a hundred years.”

Merlin left the threshold, already starting down the stairs before Arthur caught his intention and hurried to blow the candles out. For the first time in a while, Merlin felt as though he might have possibly deserved this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! With 2020 behind us, I wanted to start us off with something sweet. 
> 
> I've had a genuinely horrible week and am currently dealing with many points of anxiety. Its hard to enjoy the New Year, so I'm grateful to have this project to keep my mind occupied. Stay safe, please please please stay inside when you can. Wash your hands, wear a mask, make 2021 a year of implementing what 2020 taught us about caring for one another.
> 
> Much love always!


	15. Don't Ask Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur's first walk into town. Don't worry, he has backup.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "If I need a servant in the next life—"
> 
> "Don't ask me!" - Merlin (BBC) s02e12 [The Fires of Idirsholas]
> 
> Enjoy <3

Beca brought over two mugs to Merlin’s usual seat, eyeing up Arthur with extreme interest. Merlin expected this, but truly not to this extent. There was something regal, ancient about the way Arthur held himself. Everyone on their walk over seemed entranced by him. 

“Well… Won’t you introduce me to this gorgeous lad, Deryn?” 

“Beca!” Merlin swatted at the air in front of her. “This is Arthur. I _told_ you he was coming to visit.” 

Arthur extended a hand. Beca took it.

“Pleasure.” He kissed her hand.

“Oh, he’s that type, is he?” Beca poorly contained herself. “Quite a catch.” 

“Please,” Merlin said, “He’s a royal pain.

Arthur rolled his eyes, looking out the window. 

Beca gave Merlin a very specific look when he met her eyes and he waved her off, fighting the smile off of his face. 

Arthur watched the cars go by, doing a great job to hide his internal reaction. Merlin was right about how distressing cars would be. For someone who rode horses daily, this was a big change. The videos hadn’t fully prepared him.

“Oh,” Merlin said, getting Arthur’s attention, “I never told you about the children. When we get to the mural ceremony, you'll meet them. Up there,” Merlin pointed, “on the wall. That art belongs to Jess.”

“Jess,” Arthur repeated, making a mental note.

“She’s my favorite. So bright, always smiling; you’ll love her, trust me. That one over there is Benedict’s. Messy, but always picks nice colors.”

“You should be an art teacher,” Arthur mused, “You’ve got the children on your side. What more can you need?”

“A degree,” Merlin muttered, “but I doubt they’d want me.” 

“You really _are_ allergic to making a life here.”

“Guilty.” Merlin sipped his coffee. There was something hollow about his voice. He spoke up to remedy the tension. “I’ve got you, haven’t I? I’ll teach you some art.”

“Oh joy.” 

It was a miraculous thing— the King of Camelot in a windbreaker and jeans. No matter how many times Merlin imagined this scene, the way reality brought color to the image was unimaginable. Perhaps Merlin was taking some liberties with the amount of starring Arthur allowed. He knew it was only because Arthur got his own eye-full. 

Arthur brought the mug to his lips.

“I wish this was hotter,” he mumbled. 

The restaurant was nearly empty, save for them and another regular, an elderly man. He was busy with his crosswords, so Merlin looked down at Arthur’s mug and whispered an incantation. 

Merlin would never say it, not aloud, but performing magic after Arthur’s return was unlike anything he could remember. The strain he grew used to was all but diminished. A slight spell could work wonders with very little push. The hairs on his arm stood, even with a child’s incantation on his lips. It was invigorating. 

The mug started steaming and Arthur flinched back in his seat. He looked around frantically, much more suspicious than the magic had been. 

“Why would you do that? It was fine—”

Merlin kicked his shin under the table.

“Stop complaining if you don’t want me to fix it!”

“Oi, Deryn!” 

From the jingling front door, Owen stepped inside, out of breath. The bouquet of flowers in his arms was an unexpected sight. Merlin’s eyebrows shot up. Arthur reacted a second too late to Merlin’s false name, until another quick kick under the table alerted him. 

“Hey,” Merlin waved him over. “What’s that?”

“For Efa. Taking it down to the ceremony.” His eyes fell on Arthur and his expression changed rapidly, like the surface of a puddle in the rain. “Oh… You…”

“Yes,” Arthur said, lacking a path for his thoughts. “Hello.” 

Owen collected himself, dragging a chair over and sitting in it backwards. 

“This is exciting. First time seeing the town?”

“It is. It’s much different than I remember.”

“I bet. Oh—” Owen jutted his hand out. “I’m Owen, by the way.”

Arthur shook the hand with a bit of reservation.

“Arthur.”

“That is _so_ cool.” 

Merlin cleared his throat to snap Owen from his stupor. 

“Right,” Merlin said. “Do you want coffee too?”

“Nah, not enough time. I’ll pop by later.” He shoved Merlin’s arm affectionately. “Are you nervous, Art Boy? Gonna have the whole town admiring your shit now.”

“The _children’s_ art. But yeah, I am. I think it will be exciting for the kids.”

“I’m nervous too,” Arthur admitted. His eyes darted to Owen. “Meeting everyone is going to be… Worrisome.”

“I’m sure it will be alright, Mate,” Owen said. “You’re under-cover now, like a spy movie. Real James Bond style.”

There was a moment where Arthur stared at him blankly.

Merlin stood up, effectively ending that conversation. 

“It _will_ be fine. Owen and I will be there to help. We should go now anyways.” 

“Right.” Owen stood. “Stick with me, your highness.”

“Don’t call him that.”

“Okay, your majesty.”

Merlin left a generous tip on the table and waved to Beca as they made their way out. 

The school front was packed. Nearly the entire town was there, each in support of a certain child. Some of the older folks from the senior residence building attended as well. The ceremony began with a few teachers welcoming everyone. 

The mural was on display behind them, giant letters spelling out _CREATE_ on the side of the brick building. Within each letter was a combination of colors and scenes of children at school, playing outside, and enjoying family events. The colors were bright and contrasted plenty, bright and perfect for the side of the school building.

As Merlin led them to the front, the mic passed over to Efa. 

“Thank you, everyone, for coming to this event. I know the last few weeks have been stressful. I can attest to this better than anyone, and while I have this moment, I want to thank everyone for their aid in my family’s time of need.” A polite, sympathetic applause met this message. “Between the earthquakes and terrible storms, we’ve had to put up a fight to keep Mother Nature at bay. This mural is a reminder that we can always rebuild. We can always get back up when the world pushes us down. From whatever life hands us, we can create something better.” She gestured out to Merlin. “I would like to thank Deryn Perry for working with the children and leading the effort toward this fantastic display.”

Merlin’s face reddened as he waved around, unsure of how to accept the attention. Arthur bumped his shoulder in support and Merlin leaned closer. 

“The school adored working with you and the mural is stunning. Great job, Deryn.” She made a sweeping gesture behind her, the blue fabric of her coat swishing as she did. “Finally, a round of applause for the students who worked resiliently to bring this project to life.”

As the audience of towns people cheered, the students lined up to frame the mural. A number of parents and guardians took pictures. The local paper had one photographer snapping extra loud shots for the weekly issue.

It wasn’t until Owen pushed Merin forward that he joined the kids, standing awkwardly behind them. His smile grew more genuine as the kids crowded him. A few of them hugged him tight. He laughed— a cheerful sound that the audience shared with him. 

Toward the front, Efa’s mic was snatched by a teacher with a short bob haircut and thin rimmed glasses. She gestured to Efa with a wide hand. 

“We also would like to thank Mrs. McCreary for orchestrating this. The library has been such a great asset to the education of this town. She does so much for us. Thank you.”

As Efa tried to wave away this praise, Owen jogged up to her and handed over the bouquet of flowers. His grin was nearly devilish, clearly familiar with her hatred for attention. She smacked at him, only barely grazing his back as he retreated, and shook her head modestly. 

“And that is all for announcements! Feel free to take as many photographs as you like. The mural will be signed at the bottom by every student. Mrs. Windston will hand out the—”

Merlin stopped listening as Owen got back to them, high-fiving him as he arrived. 

“She’s gonna hunt me for sport.”

“I’ll prepare for your funeral.” 

“There you are,” Lila said, grabbing Merlin’s shoulder from behind. “You cut it close, getting here before the speech.”

“I work in mysterious ways.”

“Intriguing.” She eyed Arthur, then nodded at him. “Hi. You’re Deryn’s friend? Arthur, right? He mentioned you were visiting.”

“Thats me,” Arthur said, “And you are…?”

“Lila. I work at the tattoo shop down the road.” She pointed over her shoulder. “My girlfriend, Sara, should be done mingling soon... Hopefully. She doesn’t spend much time here either, I reckon you know about as much as she does about the town. Where are you from?”

“Grew up here, actually, but lived in London for far too long. So much has changed.”

“Ah, she’s the same way after living in Krakow. Always telling me how it’s the same but different. Hard to help with that. Just the curse of time, I suppose.”

“You could definitely say that.”

Merlin took Arthur’s hand out of instinct. Perhaps not the most subtle move in regard to Arthur’s identity, but it did make Lila blink in surprise for another reason altogether. 

Her eyes darted between Merlin and Owen, then to Arthur. The clear confusion made sense. When she looked up at Merlin for answers he shrugged.

“It’s a new development.”

A voice called Lila’s name, summoning her. It belonged to a petite woman with short hair and a flowy white top. 

“That’d be Sara,” Lila sighed. “Gotta go. Nice to see you... And Owen, I guess.” 

Owen leaned in to threaten her with an exaggerated kiss to the cheek, which she dodged, laughing. 

The front of the school cleared up eventually. A few of the students introduced themselves to Arthur. They were highly intrigued to meet Merlin’s boyfriend and had countless questions about that. Owen left them alone after a while. The peaceful walk home was welcomed. 

“So,” Merlin began, “how was that?”

“Enjoyable,” Arthur said, eyes scanning the too blue sky. “Everyone's a little too friendly. Makes it all feel like a dream.”

“That’s just because they _love_ an event. Give them something to fight about and they will without a second thought. You can appease any human with some sort of celebration.”

“Noted.” Arthur glanced down at their hands. “I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to this.”

“Which part?”

“All of it. But, namely, being able to take your hand." He squeezed Merlin's hand as if to make sure of it. "It seems like such a small thing to you now, but I remember the way I’d catch you looking at my hands while I worked and it was like we both committed cardinal sin.” His tone was light but neither of them laughed. “Maybe that is one thing I can appreciate about life in the future. It is much different than loving you before. Easier. Unsettlingly easier.”

“I appreciate it too.” Merlin swung their hands a bit. “I think thats the first time you’ve ever said that.”

“Said what?”

“ _Loving_ me.”

“Oh... Well… Does it really need saying?”

“Suppose not." Merlin thought for a second. "Though, I did wait _hundreds_ of years—”

“Don’t start with that again—”

“ _Start?”_ Merlin spat, “Centuries of waiting just for you to give me this attitude? I haven’t even _begun._ ”

The walk home continued as it did. The birds sang as they could. 

Somewhere, a little further down the road, was the lake they would pass without a second glance. It shimmered a little extra in the warm sunlight, a thin mist of magic gently rolling across the surface, as it should. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Thank you to everyone who kept up with this story, and for reading my words at all. Merlin is such an important show to me. It was one way I was able to connect with my brother when growing up. I value its characters, its message, and, most of all, the feelings of joy that it brought. 
> 
> This version of Arthur's return is a vastly different energy and atmosphere to the original show, but I hoped to make the reader feel as out of time as Arthur did. Thank you for leaving comments and kudos! Thank you for giving my original characters a chance! I appreciate you dearly. This project was so fun! I'll see you soon! 
> 
> Insp for Arthur's Room: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lDmCwmm43FM
> 
> Insp for their Bathroom: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p7B9yLyF3_8&list=PL6iebYWjN4Y2XfFf5IPIkvP4wTgbHYBE-&index=142
> 
> (I listen to a LOT of ASMR while writing) 
> 
> Find me @ runestele on Tumblr !! Stay Safe <3


End file.
